TRAGIC INNOCENCE
by pixichi
Summary: He was a good man, with a loving family, and the respect of his village. But his one fatal flaw was the fear of dying. A flaw that would ultimatly turn his world upside down. This is the story of how Victor became Reaver.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

_ The last of the amber torch flames had dissipated from the oil lamps in the cold dank morning streets of Bowerstone. Victor stared out the window of his newly aquired home, tearstains ran along the lines of his pale and dirty face. He stared at the rising blue light of morning, his memeories screaming at him. _

_"Oh my god. What have I done?!" He said with a whisper. He had run the scene over and over in his mind all night, and had gotten no sleep. His hometown was in flames, his people were being slaughtered right and left, and his family...He shook his head at the overpowering memeory. He grabbed madly at his quiver and shakily retreived an arrow, and tried again to jam it into his heart. But the result was still the same as it had been all last night. The dark energy engulfed his body and prevented him from ending his life. He screamed again at the realization that he was now stuck in this lonely and pointless existance. The memory of what he had done, what he had lost, would haunt him forever. His is a story of pain, of loss, of a broken future, a future that would forever remain cracked and distorted. No matter where he went, or what he did, no joy was ever felt without sorrow, no pleasure without a constant, throbbing pain in his heart. There would be no retribution, he was doomed. No one would stand and save his lost soul, a soul he had blackened over the centuries. He was a lost and forgotton man. No trace of his past would lay before him in his future, no living soul could he ever hope to relate to, for his time was well before their own. He walked the world, and through his pain, he grew corrupt, and through his corruption, he grew evil. But his malevolence was only skin-deep, like his eternal youth. Underneath the exterior, somewhere deep down amdist the blackened netherregions of his persona, the small seed of good and nobility struggled to grow. Alas, that a seed cannot thrive in the cold darkness of night, nor can a good heart remain vigillant amidst the body of a broken man who struggled to forget his past, and in doing so, himself. Thus, the tale of perfect innocence, and how it was tragically lost, begins:_

ONE

It was late fall in Oakvale and the last of the golden leaves dropped into the cold sea as the wind whistled through the trees. The usually quiet hamlet was bustling with activity and life on this November morning. Men and women alike were carrying large baskets of produce, bales of hay were trudged forward in wooden carts by strong horses, and the smell of rich pies and sweet meats being cooked wafted out of nearly every window. It was the day of the much awaited harvest feast, held by the most prosporous family in town; the Shepards. Ben and his wife, Jamie were the main proprieters of the enormaous Shepard Farm. Their land produced everything, from chickens and other livestock, to the tastiest fruits and vegetables around. Only Orchird farm had better produce, as they were famous for their apples and peaches. But seeing as Orchird Farm was still a good two day walk from Oakvale, and through the trechourous wastes of Darkwood, Shepard Farm still made good gold, despite the competition. Ben and Jaime were more than happy to share their end of the year harvest with the rest of the small town, a sort of thank you tradition that had started over two hundred years ago, when farmer Ben's great, great grandfather had shared some bread and honey with a worn and tired old hero, as graditude for ridding his barn of hobbes. Since that day, the Shepards were always more than happy to pay omage to their loyal clientele, and good friends. The feast was the biggest holiday that Oakvale celebrated, next to only Christmas. The rest of the year came and went without incident. The warmer months were long, and spent with hard labor for the adults, as well as their offspring. There was, nor had there ever been, a lazy soul in Oakvale. The towns very survival was linked to its inhabitants strong work ethic. However, when the day was done, a warm meal and a cold beer was a welcome treat to most of the wery villagers. The youths were given time off from their work and school on the weekends, and the laugher of children echoed thoughout the trees and down the beach on those joyous days. A favorite game was tag, or hide and seek, but what the children enjoyed playing more than anything else, was heros. This particular game consisted of the children pretendling to be either a hero, a monster, or a villager in need of help. It was a game approved by the adults as well, because it kept the little scamps occupied, without needing to worry about something getting broken inside the house. Today was a Saturday, and so there were many games of heros being played all around the town. Normally, the children would have been expected to help set up for the holiday occasion, but since food was the only real decoration for the harvest feast, the adults thought it wise to let the youths play and be out of the way of the steaming food, and the hooves of the horses. A small girl with brown hair darted past a young man carrying a beer keg, nearly causing him to drop the ale.

"Becky! You really shouldn't be running around here like that, its unsafe." The young man scolded her. Becky stopped in her tracks and stared up at the man who was adressing her. Her matching brown eyes flew open in awe as she took a step back.

"Victor! I'm so sorry sir, I was running to catch up with my brother." The girl explained shyly. Victor set the large keg of ale down and squatted next to her. He gave Becky a kind smile.

"Hey, It's alright. No need to be scared or nervous, I just want to make sure that you're being careful. The village is crazy today, and I don't want to see you get trampled by any of the horses or such."

"Really? You're so nice Victor, most of the adults around here just ignore me." Victor patted the girls head, which prompted a soft giggle from her lips.

"Just try and be more aware of your surroundings. That's what I have to do when I'm out in Darkwoods you know, one has to be careful in an unknown situation. There could be danger lurking around every tree. When your in town, even though its usually safe, you should still always be on your gaurd for the unexpected."

"Yes sir!" Becky nodded once before running off towards the beach. Victor shook his head and picked up the beer keg again.

"Scaring the children again with those hero tales of yours Victor?" A woman's voice called from behind him. Victor spun around and blushed at the young blonde girl before him.

"Just offering a little guidence is all." The woman approached him and tenderly kissed his cheek. Victor burst out in a deep red blush, still not used to his sweethearts tender advances.

"If you and I ever get married and have kids of our own, I don't want you scaring them ok? But guidence is ok." She smiled as she began to run her soft hands through his chestnut hair, ruffling it slightly.

"Cammilia, you know that I would do my very best to be a great father to any little mirical we'll eventually have together." He replied.

"Oh? So your that sure that you and I will have children then?" Cammilia shot him a mused look. Victor set the keg down again and embraced her gently.

"Yes, arn't you? Oh Cammilia, I can't see it any other way. You and I were meant to be, from the first day that we met, I knew that."

"But we were just kids ourselves back in those days Victor."

"You were the best friend that I wanted to spend my whole life with. Every night when we had to go in, I always wanted to play a little longer, just so that I could be with you." Cammilia looked away and her smile grew wider as her pale face lit up in a vibrant pink.

"Victor...Maybe it is time that we started thinking about marrige then."

"I already am my love." He pulled her close to his chest, Victor's rapidly beating heart was only calmed as Cammilia's warm body touched his own.

A large crowd had gathered in the Shepard's barn by the time the sun had dissappeared into the sea. The food had all been arranged and presented in decoritive and tasty looking ways. The parents had just come back with their youths, who where riled from a free day of play down by the seashore. The rigourous activity had kept the children busy, but it came at a price, as all of the village children were ravonous for the bountiful feast before them, and the smell of sweet pies and juicy meats was making them restless. The urchins were not alone in their plight, however. Farmers and villagers alike all gawked at the huge feast, their eyes glazed and their jaws practically dripping with anticipation. Victor stood amist the crowd, his arm proudly planted around his darling Cammilia's waist. Finnally, Farmer Ben and his wife stepped in the doorway and greeted the crowd warmly.

"Welcome friends and neighbors! I know that you all have been busy all day cooking and working hard, but if it wouldn't be too much to ask, I would like to make a toast to this year's feast."

"No! Lets eat right now!" All eyes turned on the young boy who had just cried out. His embarrased mother pulled him close and whispered something in his ear. Farmer Ben smiled at the youth.

"Thats ok sonny! We'll be eating before you know it, I promise." He said with a chuckle. He then brought up a flask of beer and began his toast. "This has been a good year for Oakvale. We harvested our fair share of produce, but not only that, we managed to produce more apples this year than even our old rival, Orchird Farm!" A loud cheer rose from the crowd. Farmer Ben continued. "But that isn't all. I am sure that you all are now aware of the obvious lack of gaurds that have been on duty lately. Because of this, we have experianced more attacks from wild beasts and outlaws alike over the last year. But, still I say, there is much cause for rejoice! For this year, one of our very own has selflessly stepped forward to defend our courgaous young man just was ok'ed as a bounty hunter last week, and has already downed twelve hobbes, six bandits, and four balverines! Yes, mother nature has provided much this year for us to eat, but her sister, the goddess of fate, has given us something that shall not just sustain us, but shall ensure our very survival. Victor Ashfield. Will you please step forward? This feast is officaly in your honor my boy!" The crowd cheered again as Victor proudly stepped from his place amoungst his fellow villagers. Cammilia's blue eyes were laced with pride and lust as he took his place beside farmer Ben. The farmer held Victor's arm high for all to see, and the cheers and whoops grew even louder. When they subsided, the farmer looked at Victor and then nodded for his wife to approach. She was holding something under a thin white cloth.

"Victor, as thanks for all your hard battles and your promise to protect us with you're very life, my wife and I have made you this. I know that its just a small token compared to what you have already done for us all, but we would both be honored if you would eat this apple pie." The farmer winked at Cammilia. "A lovely lady told me that it was your favorite, she even helped make it for ya." He nudged Victor. Jamie approached and set down the pie and uncovered it, reveiling it's warm crisp topping and steamy filling. Victor's eyes widened as the sweet scent of Cammilia's cooking hit his nostrels.

"I would be happy to ablige Ben." He answered. He cut himself a piece and walked back towards his sweetheart. Ben raised his glass one more time.

"Let the harvest feast begin!" As the farmer began to guzzle his beer, the rest of the villagers and their children piled in towards the tables high with delicious food. Victor sat down next to Cammila as he took his first bite of pie.

"You didn't have to do that you know?"

"I know. But I wanted to."

"What angel must be watching over me to bless me with a jewel such as you?" Victor asked, as he fed Cammilia the next bite of the tasty apple pie. From outside, concieled by the darkness of the night, a figure loomed by a window, watching the couple intently. The man was clothed in dark green and black peasant clothes. He had tan skin from years of working out in the feilds, and his green eyes gleamed as he watched Cammilia swallow her bite of pie. A sinister smile curved across his face. _So lovely..._ He thought, but as the young woman bent forward to kiss Victor, he pulled away from the window in disgust. He sneered at her love for the man who had absolutly no reason to be beside her. He was such a weak and poor creature compared to her. _My beautiful Cammilia, your skin is as fair as moonlight, your hair a wave of perfect gold. Why do you waste your time with that pathetic worm Victor? _The man sneered as he continued to watch.

"But have no fear my dear, for one day you shall belong to me..." The man's tone was colder than the chilly night that surrounded him.


	2. Chapter 2

In the days following the great feast, business returned to normal around the village. The farmers went back to farming, the children went back to their usual routine of school in the morning and helping their families with chores in the afternoon. Everyday Victor would descend into the murky woods to slay any beasts or ruffians who were lurking too close to Barrow Fields, and occasionally, those who had already entered the area. His lady friend, Cammilia was always busy in her small cottage, mending clothes and making dinner for her triumphant hero upon his return. Although he was a great shot with his bow and arrows, she always worried about Victor when he would go out on patrol. Unlike most of the unmarried young women in Oakvale, Cammilia lived alone. Sadly, she had not known the luxuries of a family since her own was taken from her when she was fourteen. She had fended for herself for a week, struggling with, and nearly dying of the disease that had taken her two sisters and parents. Few had been known to survive the plague, but luckily for Cammilia, Oakvale had the best town doctor that rural Albion had ever known. The half dead teen had chanced upon him, and the man, known as Rexley, had taken pity on her. The doctor not only nursed her back to health, but he also raised her as his own, along with his son. Cammilia sighed as she churned the butter for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was getting nice and creamy, just the way that her sweetheart liked it on his toast. It was quaint and cozy inside her home, and a healthy fire was cracking and humming in the center of the one room abode. As if flickered, it made eerie shadows on the walls of the cottage. Cammilia plunged the handle of the churn once more before concluding that it was indeed ready. It had taken her four hours of almost constant pumping, but at least there would be enough butter to last for a few days now. It also gave her a way to take her mind off of her constant worries. _He will be home soon, and then we can eat and chat and all will be well again._ She told herself with a smile. Victor was a noble man, and although it was no secret that he and Cammilia were lovers, the young man had refused to impose on moving in with her until they were married. For the moment, Victor still lived with his mother and brother in the cottage at the far end of town, by the windmill. But Cammilia was certain, especially after his tender words at the harvest festival, that their living arrangement was about to change. _Oh Victor, you always were the shy one. I wish he would just ask me already, I would say yes without a second thought. _RAP RAP RAP! The sudden string of knocks startled the young woman from her thoughts. Cammilia slowly looked out the window and saw the boy that she had grown up beside. Everyone in the town, including Rexley, had always called him her surrogate brother, yet he couldn't be further from a sibling to her. She had always seen him as more of a roommate or an odd friend. Cammilia could never recall a time when he didn't look suspicious and although she knew that he was harmless, his eyes had always worried her. She opened the door to her home and smiled sweetly at him.

"Xaiver? What a surprise! Do come in!" Xaiver grinned and walked inside the cottage. He trodded across the floorboards and stared into the lit fireplace before him. Cammilia shut the door and then looked over to see what had caught his eye. But she saw nothing out of the ordinary in the blaze.

"Cammilia. So, how have you been?" He spoke in his low deep voice.

"Oh fine! I was just finishing up on my usual chores. How are you Xaiver? You missed the harvest festival again this year, is everything alright?"

"Never been better. Besides, you know how much I hate those social get-togethers. Hardly a use of my valuable time." He replied, never looking up from the fire.

"Well, I just thought that since everyone was going...it was a little disappointing not to see you."

"Oh, I was there-you just didn't see me. But I didn't stay for very long. Some important matters came up." He trailed off. Cammilia backed away. His strange disposition had always left her uneasy. She glanced out the window, and her wavy blonde hair bounced as she turned her head. Xaiver finally looked up from the fireplace. "Expecting someone?" He asked her.

"Actually Xaiver, when I heard you knock, I kinda thought that it was Victor. We're having dinner together tonight ya know?" Xaiver sneered.

"Again with _him_..." Cammilia crooked her thin eyebrow at his tone.

"Xaiver? Are you ok? You've been acting kinda weird ever since Victor and I became lovers." Xaiver stepped towards her, and Cammilia instinctively backed away, although she didn't know why.

"You are still so oblivious Cammilia, its actually kind of cute, in an incredibly annoying way that is. Can't you see that he's not good enough..." He reached up and caressed her pale cheek. "...for such a lovely as you."

"What are you doing Xaiver?" Cammilia asked alarmed. Xaiver leaned in even closer to her. Cammilia's arm rested against the table, and knocked a clay pitcher down onto the floor in her surprise. Xaiver just smiled wickedly.

"There is a man in this pathetic town however, who _is_ worthy of the prized rose. And he happens to be right in front of you, my sweet girl." Cammilia felt more afraid of Xaiver than she had ever been in all of her life. Her hands desperately felt for something to defend herself with, but she found nothing. Xaiver leaned in closer and flicked his tongue out of his mouth. He graced Cammilia's delicate cheek with it, and she cried out as it burnt her flesh.

"W-what was that? You're mouth just burned me!" She exclaimed, Xaiver just smiled.

"Do you like that? It's a new spell that I just learned. I can command fire now Cammilia. I'll bet that Victor can't even dream of doing that. So what do you say? Want to see what other things I can heat up?" He wrapped his arm around her waist and Cammilia struggled to break free of his grasp. She darted across the room and pawed though a bookshelf, again in pursuit of an item to defend herself from Xaiver's assault with.

"Just stay back Xaiver! I'm in love with Victor, not you!" She yelled bravely. Xaiver laughed as he advanced closer.

'You know, a girl shouldn't live all alone. Something very bad could happen without a man to protect her."

"Xaiver, please, stop!"

"So where is your valiant knight now Cammilia? Are you still so certain that Victor will never let you down?" Cammilia's heart was beating so fast that the young woman feared that it would explode as the dark villager closed in on her. She cowered in the corner before him, as he reached her. Then, he stopped and turned away from her. Cammilia looked at him and slowly got up. Xaiver was heading to the door again. But as he turned the knob, he glared at her one last time. "Think about what I just told you. Because there will come a day when you will need protection, and if Victor isn't there to save you, you'll be doomed." Before Cammilia could reply, Xaiver laughed and exited her home. Overcome with fear and shock, the young woman fell to her knees. _Why would you do that Xaiver? You have always been strange and sinister, but that was too much, even for you... _Cammilia felt as if she might be sick. She reached up and touched the burn upon her cheek, but found that it had dissipated into nothing but a small soot mark. Cammilia brushed the soot off and then looked out the window again. It was nearly dark and Victor should have been back by sunset. He was late. Cammilia shakily got to her feet, recalling Xaiver's warning. If he hadn't been her surrogate brother, she could have been killed right here in her cottage. And Victor was nowhere to be seen. She shook her head violently, trying to press the doubt far away.

"No! Victor loves me, he's just late. I can't let this bother me."

"Let what bother you darling?" A voice called from out the window. Cammilia looked out and saw Victor, drenched in blood, and looking very tired. She swung open the door and ran to him.

"Victor! Are you hurt? Is that all your blood?!" She gasped frantically. Victor put his hands onto her trembling shoulders in an attempt to calm her.

"Cammila, I'm fine. It's from a balverine, well, most of it anyway. I might have gotten a small nick or two." He chuckled. Cammilia was reassured by his optimistic mood and she relaxed at the soft sound of his laughter.

"Well come in! I made you some butter to go with your toast and dinner tonight." Cammilia motioned for him to enter. Victor bowed before her before entering the cottage. "Can I get that shirt? I'll wash it and sew on a few patches, it will be as good as new!" She reached for the tattered rag as Victor removed it. But instead of placing it into Cammilia's outstretched hands, he threw it to the floor and took her hands in his. Cammilia looked up into his kind green eyes.

"You work harder than even I do. I want you to promise me that you shall relax some more Cammilia. You truly deserve it."

"But Victor...I don't really work all that hard. I'm just a normal woman doing normal chores all day." She started.

"Cammilia. You are not a normal woman. You're the most special woman in the world." Victor replied. He reached into his sack and retrieved a small red ruby. "I know that it's not very impressive, but I got it off of a troll I killed. That's why I was so late, I'm truly sorry if I worried you dear." He bent down and held the ruby up for Cammilia to see. He eyes were dazzled by the way the fire reflected across the surface of the gem.

"Victor. It's the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen." She replied breathlessly.

"The most beautiful thing that you have ever seen, for the most beautiful thing that _I _have ever seen. For you." He gently placed the ruby into her outstretched hands.

The next day, Victor went to pay his old friend a visit, for he had news that needed to be told.

"So, You're really going to marry her then?" Xaiver asked Victor. The two young men were at the far edge of town, near Xaiver's cottage. It was dank and drafty, being closer to Darkwood than any other home in Oakvale, and Victor pulled his bear fur closer to his body.

"Yes, I was awake all last night thinking about just what to say and how to go about it." He replied, struggling not to shiver. Xaiver watched him fight the cold as he reclined back onto the hard rocks behind him.

"Chilly isn't it?"

"Yes actually. I don't know why you don't move closer to the village. It's always colder here, plus you're in closer proximity of the balverines and other nasties."

"I have my reasons Victor." Xaiver closed his eyes.

"Is it your father? Do you still feel some sort of duty to keep his place of work and memory alive?" Victor blurted the question without a second thought. Xaiver gave him nary a look. He just began to grin his disturbing smile.

"It was a shame to see him burned alive wasn't it? That man's spells were actually useful at times. But don't worry, I'm over that. I don't need such things as "honor", or "legacy". Those are your own words, so keep them to yourself."

"Xaiver, we really need to talk. You've been acting really strange these past few years. We've been friends since we were children, and I know that this has something to do with Rexley, so stop denying it." Victor confronted him. Xaiver opened one eye, annoyed.

"Again, those are merely your assumptions. Why would I care about Rexley? He was my ticket into this life, and nothing more."

"He was your father! Honestly Xaiver, whats happening to you?!" Xaiver sat up upon the stone.

"Happening? Why do you think that something is changing? How do you know that I haven't been this way all along?"

"Because I've known you for years! You can't hide yourself from the world, maybe bits and pieces of it, but there will always be someone out there somewhere that knows the real you. And that's me Xaiver, I know the real you!" Victor replied. Xaiver just stared at him and then burst out laughing. He got up and brushed some of his long black hair from his face. As he turned and looked at Victor, his green eyes seemed to mock him.

"Are you really sure about that?"


	3. Chapter 3

Victor heaved the last of the heavy ale kegs up onto the cart. Sweat covered his face and upper body, despite the cold weather.

"Alright Henery. She's all loaded up. Do you need anything else today?" He asked the man sitting in the drivers seat.

"No, you've done enough for me for today little brother. I'll be off now." Henery replied as he cracked his whip across the back to a dappled grey mare. The horse whinnied loudly before sprinting forward. Victor watched as his older brother headed out towards Darkwoods with his wares. Henery was trying to strike a bargain with Orchard Farm. He wanted to go into business with them, selling ale and grain as well as the farms famous produce. Victor worried about him whenever he went on his long journeys though the foreboding wastes, but Henery was just as reckless and strong, if not more so, than Victor, and he would not be stopped. Victor looked up at the sun, high above the lazy moving blades of his families windmill. He whipped some more sweat from his brow and headed down to the well, thirsty and hot. The unusual mix of sweat and cold air made his skin sting. He decided to get his water quickly, and then head for home to get more comfortable. A woman was already standing by the well, getting a cup of chilly water for her young daughter. Victor recognized the youth as the girl that had plowed into him at the harvest festival.

"Oh! Mommy mommy look! It's Victor!" Becky squealed, nearly dropping her cup. Becky's mother looked up from the well as she pulled the ropes.

"Oh! Victor hello! My little girl here was just telling me how you taught her a valuable lesson about being careful. Thank you for looking out for her safety. As her mother, I try my best to keep tabs on her, but I can't be with her 100% of the time."

"It's no problem. Like they say, it takes a village to raise a child." Victor smiled.

"Oh my! Your drenched in sweat! Here, let me get you some water." The woman finished pulling up the bucket from inside the well, and dipped her cup inside. She offered the dripping wooden cup to Victor, who took it generously.

"Thank you miss." Victor replied, as he poured the rest of the water over his face.

"Of course. It's the least I could do for the village hero." The woman winked. Victor returned her cup and looked down at Becky.

"You be a good girl ok?" Becky smiled.

"Of course I will. See you later Victor!" The youth proclaimed. Victor nodded at Becky and her mother.

"Be seeing you then." He added, before walking off towards home. As he walked through the gate that led out of town, he passed by several of his neighbors homes. Some raised chickens, others larger livestock such as horses and cows. Still others grew crops or tended their orchards. The fields were bare, having been harvested earlier that year, and with the impending winter quickly approaching, cattle and horses were safe and warm in their stalls, thick quilts would be thrown over them as soon as the first snows fell, to keep them from suffering any effects of the bitter elements. The chickens would be locked in their coops, fed once a week with a generous portion of seed, to limit the amount of cold air that seeped into their area. Cold air and freezing snow could be miserable to the larger beasts, but it was downright deadly to the small flightless fowl. The windmill was about ten feet away from him now, and was turning slower these days, probably due to the lack of wind that autumn had produced thus far. But like everyone else in his family, Victor knew that the harsh winds of winter were not far off. As he passed through the front gate of his home, a black Shepard perked up its ears and jumped upon Victor to greet his arrival. Victor tassled the animals long coat, as the dog covered his bare chest with wet licks.

"Archer! It's great to see you boy!" Victor laughed as the dog cocked his head at the name. Archer removed his muddy paws from Victor and followed his master into the small family dwelling.

"Victor! What have I told you about that filthy dog? He belongs outside with the other animals!" A womans voice yelled as the door to the cabin swung shut. Victor looked behind him at a mischievous looking Archer. He shook his head.

"Sorry mum, I didn't realize that this rascal had followed me in. Come on boy, out you go." Victor nudged the dog back out the door, patting his rump as he exited the home. Victor looked back at his mother, Dawn. She had an annoyed glare on her lips.

"You need to be more careful about watching that animal. Mrs. Muriel down the street came over here today complaining about how that dog had chased all of her chickens out of their coop and then gorged himself on the days supply of eggs." Victor couldn't help but grin at the thought of Archer chasing chickens and then raiding the henhouse.

"The little glutton." He mused. Dawn cleared her throat and Victor's smile faded.

"Victor, your almost a man, if you can't even control your dog, then what chance have you got at controlling your life?" Victor rolled his eyes. _Here it comes again. _He thought. _The big speech._ "Your brother Henery has been towing grain and ale back and forth from Orchard Farm for almost two years now. Every week, he risks his life to make a name for himself. He's barely 21, and yet he has already found his trade, and gotten good at it. I even heard a rumor from a trader in Barrow Fields that said the owner of Orchard Farm is considering a partnership with Henery."

"I know, it's all over town mother." Victor scowled, as he donned a clean pauper shirt. He had been upstaged by his older brother for as long as he could recall. No matter how hard Victor tried, Henery was always taller, faster, and better at everything, and their mother had never been shy about picking favorites. Victor could never be sure, but he had long assumed that it was because Henery was the son of Dawn's late husband, while he was the messy result of her prostitution job. The bastard son that she got stuck with.

"Yes, and do you know what else is all over town? That you are going to propose to that sweet daughter of Rexley. How do you plan to follow through with such an endeavour, you haven't even got a cent to your name." Victor's eyes widened, and hot anger poured itself into his veins. Xaiver! He had told the entire town of the surprise that Victor was planning, and no doubt Cammilia was well aware by now too. Her friends were probably swarming her with gifts and gossip to her oblivious shock.

"Why would he do that?" Victor asked aloud. Dawn looked at him, as he stood there, angrily staring out the window.

"Victor! Stop daydreaming and answer your mother!"

"I have to go." Before Dawn could object, Victor raced out the door and back towards the end of town, He wanted to find out why his best friend would betray his trust, nay, ruin his life. It was Oakvale tradition that a proposal should be made when the woman least expected it. If the bride was aware of the gesture in advance, it was seen as a bad omen, and the womans family would be forced to object to the marriage. Victor continued to run, infuriated, and heartbroken. Cammilia was the only woman that he had ever felt silly around, the only woman that could cheer him up even when he was battered and bloodied from battle. He knew that she was ment to be his wife, and now, Xaiver had ruined that for him. Victor raced past Cammilia's house, and although he was tempted to stop in, just in case by sheer luck, the love of his life hadn't heard the news, he felt too ashamed to look her in the face. If she did know, Victor was too crushed to find out from her. Instead, he continued to head to the very last house in Oakvale, although it was so far out, that it was considered by some, to be more in the vicinity of Darkwood. Victor, out of breath from running nonstop through town, banged as hard as he could on Xaiver's door. To his surprise, the door creaked open. Victor cautiously entered, and was horrified by the sight that greeted him. It had been a very long time since he had gone inside the home of the old will user, his mother had taken him there once for a broken leg. But every time Victor had stopped by, Xaiver had made it very clear that their visit was to be restricted to the outdoors. And now Victor knew why. The bookshelves and cots that had been in the old Rexley house had been replaced with iron maidens, chains with shackles, as well as various other disturbing tools of torture. There was fresh blood on the rack, and dried black all over the floor of the home. Victor took a step back. The home smelled of sulphur, copper, and rotten meat. But Victor wasn't really bothered until he noticed the pair of eyes staring at him from inside the iron maiden. He gasped. There was someone inside the thing! Victor instinctively rushed over and pried the doors to the ancient device apart. But instead of a person, a deer flopped out, bleeding from the dozens of deep stab wounds, the frightened animal lurched and panted in agony. Victor took another step back, and cried out as he bumped into someone.

"Well hello Victor. I didn't know that you were stopping by today." Xaiver grinned as Victor whirled around and stared at him.

"What is all of this? What are you doing?"

"Matters of which you would never understand. This is exactly why I specifically warned you never to enter my home." Xaiver hissed. Victor looked down again at the deer.

"Why would you do something like that? What purpose could torturing that animal possibly have?"

"Like I said, I have my reasons Victor." Victor was filled with a mix of fear and anger.

"Why did you tell the whole town that I was going to propose to Cammilia? It was a secret Xaiver!" Victor flared. Xaiver chuckled as he entered his bloody domain. He reached down, and stroked the deers slender throat.

"Just a bit more pain, and then your role in my doing shall end my sweet." Xaiver crooned to the dying animal. Victor stepped forward, his face hard.

"Xaiver!"

"Oh, I just don't think that you have thought this through, I was doing you a favor."

"Favor?! I wanted to be with her for the rest of my life! You denied us our happiness, you call THAT a favor?!" Victor raised his hand to his friend. Xaiver continued to grin evilly.

"Why would I allow my surrogate sister to marry you? With Rexley dead, someone has to have say in the matter."

"You bastard! Your father was great friends with my family, you know that he would allow me Cammilia's hand!"

"He would, but I forbid it."

"Why?!" Victor continued. Xaiver looked down at the deer. To Victor's surprise and horror, the hand that caressed the animal's neck, sprouted a dark blade, severing the deer's head from the rest of her body. Xaiver licked the blood from his hand, stood, and leaned in towards Victor.

"Because, she belongs to me. I have plans for her." Victor glared at him.

"What kind of plans?"

"Plans that most would call very cruel." Victor lunged at Xaiver, grabbing his shirt collar.

"Xaiver, you may have stopped our marriage, but you can never stop my love for her. I will love and protect her until the end of my you even think about hurting Cammila, I'll slaughter you!" Xaiver grinned, exposing the deers blood on his teeth.

"Every hero has his flaw Victor, and when I find yours, your petty morals and sickening love for that girl shall be forever tainted." Victor loosened his grip on his best friend.

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

"Why don't you just wait and see for yourself, Hero of Skill." Xaiver snickered wickedly as Victor yelled and grabbed for him again.

"Hero of Skill? What are you talking about!" With that, the door to Xaiver's cabin slammed shut. Victor pounded and pulled on the knob, but the door refused to budge. From within, Victor could hear Xaiver's rusty chortles growing louder.


	4. Chapter 4

Victor trudged back home, both frightened and appalled with the knowledge that he had just acquired. Xaiver was not only conducting eerie, sadistic experiments in his home, but he had also made a direct threat to Cammilia. Victor decided that for the sake of Cammilia, he had to report Xaiver's strange behavior and threat to the town guards. _But Xaiver, why are you changing into this monster?_ Granted, he had always been a little strange, and antisocial compared to the other townsfolk. But never had he killed for pleasure, or put in obvious effort to ruin Victor's life. And what of that spell that he had used to summon a blade out of his hand? Rexely had been a wiccan, it was a common fact around town, for he had died because of it. Burned alive at the stake for being a witch. Was Xaiver a wiccan as well?

"No, wiccans use their magic to heal and help, not to kill and harm." Victor stated aloud. It was then that he was forced to realize the bitter truth. Xaiver had indeed inherited Rexley's powers, but he was using them for evil. He was indeed, a warlock. Victor knew that if he reported this to the townsfolk, his best friend would meet the same gristly end as his father. Victor stopped walking. Did Xaiver really deserve to die? Granted, he had done the unthinkable in denying his friend the right to marry the woman that he loved. But was that really worthy of death? Perhaps Xaiver was just coping with Rexleys death very poorly, or maybe living all alone was starting to make him stranger. Whatever the case, Victor soon convinced himself that Xaiver needed to be left in peace, and that whatever odd ideas or plans that he was concocting should be allowed to run their course. After all, he was just one man. How bad could Xaiver's plans really be? As for the matter regarding Cammilia, Victor decided that he needed to warn her. She had the right to know that it was Xaiver that had spread the rumor about Victors proposal, and also, that her brother was acting very strangely. Perhaps she would know what to do! Victor continued to walk, until he stood outside of Cammilia's home. He had expected it to be lively and loud, seeing as her friends were some of the biggest gossips in town. But Victor heard no one from inside the cottage. That was when he finally realized it. If Cammilia had heard the rumor, then Victor would be denied her hand. And if he couldn't marry Cammilia, then he couldn't stand to see her day after day for the rest of his life. He had to take leave of Oakvale. Victor took a deep breath and proceeded to the front door of her small cottage. He gave two sharp knocks, and Cammilia's gleeful smile greeted him.

"Oh! Victor, what a pleasant surprise! Please do come in lovecake." Cammilia's smile faded as she saw the long frown on Victors tired face.

"Cammilia. Theres something that I need to tell you."

"Victor? What is it?" Victor heaved a heavy sigh.

"I am sure by now that you have heard the little rumor that is going around. I cannot live my life without you, and seeing as it is indeed the truth, I have been denied the right to be with you. So I'm going away, hopefully one day, you'll find a man that can treat you as well as I had hoped to. Farwell, sweet Cammilia." Victor turned away as quickly as he could, but the confused woman refused to let go of his hand.

"Victor! What are you saying?!" Her blue eyes overflowed with tears. "Is this all because of your brothers partnership? Because I don't care about him, Victor. Its you that I'm in love with, you are the only one that could ever make me happy." Victor whirled around.

"What?"

"You said that I heard the rumor, about your brother? Well I did, but I don't understand what that has to do with you and I?" Victor beamed. Xaiver had spread the news of the proposal to everyone, but by some miracle, no one had uttered a word about it to Cammilia! Victor rushed to embrace her.

"Oh, never mind all that! Cammilia, I have been a fool. I beg your forgiveness."

"Oh, Victor, of course! I could never be angry with you. You worry way too much ya know?" She kissed his hand as he finished wiping away the last of her crystal tears. Victor smiled lovingly into her with his forest green eyes.

"Cammilia. Will you become my wife?"

"Victor..."The young woman was speechless. Victor nervously waited her reply. She threw her arms around his neck, and jumped up, locking her legs around his waist. Victor felt his blood rush at the sudden motion from his beloved. "Oh Victor, of course I'll marry you dear!" Victor covered her mouth with his relieved and passionate kisses, and then carefully set her down. He fished through his pocket and retrieved a small gold ring. A tiny, heart-shaped red ruby decorated the center. Victor slipped the band upon her finger as gently as he could. Then the young couple kissed again. When they were finished, Victor's face grew dark.

"There was something else that I needed to tell you. Xaiver is after you."

"After me?" Cammilia gasped, remembering the night that Xaiver had burned her and scared her with his threat.

"He told me that sooner or later he would have you. But I promise you Cammilia, I will never let that happen. I am going to protect you forever."

"Victor. I am worried. Xaiver has gotten a lot darker over the past few years hasn't he?"

"Yes darling, he has."

"What should we do?"

"I was thinking about telling the guards, but I didn't want to do anything without asking you first. He is your surrogate brother after all."

"He's never acted like a brother to me." Cammilia replied coldly.

"Cammilia, there is something that he is doing that really bothers me. I went to see him today, and he had a-" Victor stopped. the memory graphic.

"He had a what Victor?" Cammilia put her hand in his, her new ring glimmering in the firelight. Victor paused, worried that he might upset her. But her blue pleading eyes urged him on.

"He had a deer stuffed into an iron maiden. When I opened the door, it was still alive. He decapitated it right in front of me, using a spell." Cammilia's eyes went wild with fear.

"He said that he wouldn't do it, but he did..." She whispered. Victor leaned in.

"Do what?"

"After Rexley was sentenced and killed, Xaiver told me that one day he would find a way to get revenge on this village. He told me that he and his family were part of this ancient order, and that he could learn to use magic." Cammilia explained grimly.

"Magic?"

"Yes. He told me that he wanted to become a warlock. And from what you are telling me, it sounds like he is well on his way. Victor. You have to tell the guards!"

"But they'll kill him. Do you really want your brother to die the way that Rexely did?" Victor asked stunned.

"Trust me Victor, he's too far gone. If you don't stop him, there is no telling what he will be capable of one day. Please Victor, you're a bounty hunter now. You have an obligation to protect this village, and I am telling you, Xaiver is a real threat." Cammilia clasped Victor's hand tighter as she pleaded. As he stared at his fiance' he remembered the deer, the blood, and the evil look in Xaiver's eyes.

"Your right Cammilia. I'll tell the sheriff in the morning."

Victor lay in his bed, unable to find sleep. Too much was on his mind. The marriage, Xaiver, along with several other things. He raised his head and glanced around his room. Archer was at the foot of his bed, although his mother would have scolded him harshly if she knew. Victor's mother had always disliked animals inside the house. The last of the dual embers had almost dissapated away from the fireplace in the corner, it would be dawn soon, much to Victor's dismay. He still could hardly belive that his old friend was practicing witchcraft, nor that it was he who would have to report it come morning. But what was really bothering him, was something that his mother had said earlier that day. When she had asked Victor how he was planning to pay for his wedding. It was an Albion tradition, that the groom should pay for the entire wedding, having received a gift of either livestock or land from the brides family. Victor wondered what type of gift Xaiver would give. Since Cammilia's biological family had perished long ago, Xaiver was all that she clung to in that regard. _But he doesn't even want me to marry her. That's why he leaked the rumor._ Victor reasoned. Still, even if the couple received no such gift, Victor would still be required to pay for the wedding. It was a symbol of a mans sincerity towards his bride to be, and her family, as well as the mark of a man who was accomplished and mature. Victor was only 18, barely a man, but he was serious about Cammilia. He loved her, he had always loved her. And there was nothing that would keep him from raising the funds required to give her the most beautiful wedding she could ask for. Archer was starting to stir. The shepard slowly stood and gazed upon his master with loyal eyes. Victor smiled at him through the darkness.

"You can't sleep either eh boy?" He patted the bed for Archer. The dog wasted no time in leaping up. Archer gently licked Victor's cold hands. He stretched and made a contented grunt in his throat as his master found that special spot behind the dogs ears and began to stroke. As Victor scratched his pet, he continued to look around the room at his things. There was a pile of books decorating most of a small table, and his bow and quiver lay propped up in the corner, along with his hunting knife and a few potions. He knew that he would be using them again tomorrow, when he made his weekly trek down to Darkwood to deal with any bandits or balverines who were lurking too close to Barrow Fields. Like most of the village youths, Victor had enjoyed games of hero with his friends and his older brother when he was young. But he had always loved reading books as well as playing in the tall brush or down by the rocky shore. He could read for hours and never even know it, until the sun would disappear and his mother would call him for dinner. Victor loved books. They gave him the ability to venture outside the quaint village and see the world in its entirety. He would read about wildlife, or plants, or famous works of fiction. But of all the books he read, Victor enjoyed books on heros the most. He had become obsessed with practicing the three heroic disciplines, to see if one day he too could grow up and be a legendary hero. He found out quickly enough that he couldn't use magic, whenever he tried to cast a spell, all he accomplished was a sore wrist and some odd stares from his peers. He was decent with a blade, although back in those days, he was restricted to a stick. But Victor would never forget the first day he got a toy bow for his 9th birthday. It was a day that would forever change his life. He and his brother decided to try out the new toy by setting up empty bottle and toys to aim at. Once the targets were all in place, Henery had allowed Victor to shoot first, and the younger brother aimed at a ragdoll fifty feet away, and fired. Henery and Victor walked over and retrieved the toy, and both were astounded that not only had Victor's arrow found its mark, but it had been a perfect headshot as well. From that day on, Victor quickly realized that he was an extremely good shot with a bow, so good in fact, that 9 years later, he had still never missed a shot. Aside from his amazing aim, there was something else that stood him out from the rest of his hometown: he was an extremely learned man for his time. Reading books from an early age had greatly expanded Victor's intellect. He was able to think past the superstitious and ignorant mindsets of most of Albion. But his great knowledge came with a price.A price that ignorant people never have to pay. Victor now realized that there were limits to skill, to knowledge, and to himself. He could face down a full grown balverine without fear, he could read all the books he wanted, but no matter what he did, no matter how skilled or intelligent he became, one day it would all end. He would end. That was what haunted Victor the most. He was terrifed of the ineveidible-of death.


	5. Chapter 5

"Well! That is a big concern! You say that you witnessed the whole thing son?" The town sheriff finished listening to Victor's report with a worried expression on his face. Victor slowly nodded.

"Yes. It's true. Every single word." The sheriff looked from the young man before him, to the windmill moving lazily in the distance.

"I thought we would never have to deal with another of those accursed witches, after the demonstration with Rexley..." He growled under his breath. He patted Victor on the shoulder, with such force that Victor was worried for a moment that the jolly sherif had accidentally dislocated it. "Thanks a lot boy! You just saved Oakvale from a major disaster. I'll see that you get extra pay this week from your bounty hunting job." The burley man concluded with a wink. Victor continued to smile uneasily as the sheriff tipped his hat and headed off towards the center of the village. It had been quite possibly the hardest quest Victor had ever been on. Turning in his best friend, or at least what was left of him. But Cammilia was right, Xaiver had gone too far. Normal people did not torture animals and learn evil spells at their leisure. And how could Victor ever forget the rumor that almost kept him from his childhood sweetheart's hand, nor the direct threat that Xaiver had made. _She's right. You are too far gone, and you're turning into a serious threat to the village. Still, it makes me sad. I am sorry, Xaiver._ Victor stroked the long black fur on Archer's back as he watched the sheriff rally the rest of the guards and then head off towards Xaiver's home. He had to look away. This was not the outcome that the young man had hoped for. When they were children, Xaiver and Victor had played and joked, laughed and talked, and nothing could have ever come between them. They were the best of friends, so close in fact, that the adults in the village had often kidded that they must have been separated at birth. And although Victor knew better, it was still comforting to imagine that him and Xaiver were brothers. Instead of he and Henery. Henery had never truly accepted Victor as anything more than a irresponsible child that he was forced to live with. _He should be coming back from Orchard Farm soon._ Victor thought. _No doubt he'll flaunt his newly earned gold in my face, and brag about how successful he's becoming. Just what I need at a time like this. _From behind him, came a soft voice that broke him from his thoughts.

"Victor? Did you do it?"

"Yes, its done. He cannot hurt you now my love." Victor replied to Cammilia. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, kissing her warm soft locks.

"I know that it was hard for you, but the Xaiver that you grew up with is gone. This truly is for the best."

"I understand." Victor answered. He walked over to a grand old oak and placed his hand against the trunk.

The town sheriff and six of his top men marched across the covered bridge, their heavy boots thumping loudly against the old wood. Armed with swords and shackles, they were prepared to take the prisoner, alive or dead. They kept onward, past the schoolhouse, and past the cave that lead to Bloodstone. Their journey through the usually lively Barrow Fields was uneventful, save a man riding an old mare back to town. The air began to grow colder as they passed the remnants of the old Grey House, and proceeded through the marsh.

"This place gives me the willies. Who on earth would choose to live this close to Darkwood?" Asked one of the guards.

"A witch, that's who." Answered another. Even the sheriff looked around anxiously.

"He wouldn't be the first witch to live in the vicinity. The Albion witchspotters association can attest to that." He added, remembering Lady Grey. Her eerie manor still stood, seemingly untouched before them. "Victor told me that he lives further down this path. Come on, we need to get there quickly. Who knows what strange powers this man possesses." The guards took a last look up at the Grey House, and then followed the sheriff. It was still mid afternoon, yet the sunlight refused to shine more than a few inches beyond the thick cover of twisted trees and bog scented fog. In the distance, the sheriff could just start to make out a small cabin. When his men were within fifty yards, the sheriff gave the signal to stop.

"Orders sir?" One of the guards asked with a salute.

"Approach with caution, stealth, and be ready to kill the bastard if necessary. Remember, this is a witch we're talking about."

"If I may?" A deep voice came from behind the sheriff. The guards and their leader whirled around, their sharp blades drawn. Xavier was perched in one of the many dead trees that engulfed the area. His smile was very disturbing. "I couldn't help but notice that you constantly have been referring to me as a 'witch'. I hate to sound rude, but I do belive that 'warlock' is the term that you seek. I am a man after all." The sheriff pulled free his bow from his thick leather quiver.

"You're a dead man Xaiver, that's what _you_ are!" Xaiver chuckled mockingly in his throat.

"Oh am I?" Just as the sheriff was about to fire, one of the guards gave a loud shriek. The sheriff turned and gasped at the sight he beheld. They were surrounded by wavy abominations, blacker that the dead of night. Their thin, smokey bodies appeared weak and fleeting, as if a mere breeze could destroy them. They bore red eyes, that glimmered amongst the dank dreariness of the marsh. Their bodies held no clear shape, as they hovered around the guards. Xaiver chanted some unpleasant words in an ancient tongue, and the shadows began their attack. The guards struggled to hold their own against the monsters, baring their swords and shooting arrows into the entities, both to no avail. The shadows clawed, bit and slashed each of their adversaries, until their mortal struggles had ceased. The sound of shrieks and screams filled the air as night fell over the swamp. Xaiver jumped down from the tree as the last of the shadow beasts dissipated. The warlock grinned wickedly as he removed the sheriffs own sword from his chest. He knew all too well who had tipped them off. But in spite of that, a cunning smile still began to grace his deformed maw.

"I suppose this is where the fun begins." He clutched the sword in his hand even tighter. It was time to put his plan in motion.

Henery waltzed up the dirt path to where his brother was sharpening his arrows. He wore a look of both accomplishment and vanity. Victor barely looked up when he heard him stop right before him.

"So, this is all that you've been up to for the last few days eh? At least one of us is actually a success." Henery scoffed as he watched Victor work.

"Good to see you too Henery." Victor answered. When he still refused to look up at his brother, Henery tossed a huge sack of gold onto the tree stump beside him. The sound of heavy coins hitting the wood jarred Victor from his personal thoughts, and he finally met his brothers proud gaze.

"Do you know how much that is? I'll tell you. It's exactly 3'000 gold, enough to buy a small house, or a plot of land. I made just by selling that cart you helped me load the other day."

"Good for you." Victor replied, and went back to honing his weapons.

"So, how much gold did you make while I was away?" Henery pressed him. Victor knew that his older brother wouldn't leave until he had succeeded in winning the argument that he was so bent on starting.

"I didn't work any. I had more important things to do."

"That's always been your excuse Victor. 'I want to marry Cammilia', 'I want to become a hero'. The only thing that you have ever accomplished is being a dreamer. And dreams don't put food on the table, nor gold in one's pocket." Victor stood, and stiffened his posture.

"I actually did do it. I proposed to her Henery." Henery laughed.

"Honestly Victor, I don't see why she's so bloody important to you anyway. Families just slow you down, you cannot become successful nor famous with a wife and children constantly begging for attention. Their like leeches, always wanting more and more of your time. You'll never see me tying the knot, that's for damn sure." Victor bristled at his words.

"You have your way and I have mine alright?!"

"Trust me Victor, I can see that we do. I'm the one with all the gold after all." Henery mused before walking back towards the windmill, carelessly tossing and catching his newly acquired bag of currency. Victor sat back down and pulled free another arrow to sharpen. _I'll show you. One day, I'll become more rich, powerful, and famous than anyone else in this town..._


	6. Chapter 6

Victor paced his bedroom, concerned. He needed to find a way to save up enough gold to pay for the wedding, and his bounty hunting wasn't going to cover it. Oakvale tradition stated that a groom must pay at least 10'000 gold for an ordained marriage. Any less was seen as a bad omen, and a sign that the 'man' was indeed still a boy, and not ready for such a serious commitment. Victor also knew that the marriage was only the least of his problems. A groom must also have a house for his new bride to move into. To his knowledge, there was a quaint cottage for sale, down by the covered bridge. It was a mere 5'000 gold, well within his means, at least in time. But his usual bounty hunting jobs only pulled in about 500 gold a month, plus the occasional extra that he would loot off of the dead bandits and monsters. But that would be nowhere near the 15'000 which he needed within the next month or two. Then, an idea came to him, though he didn't like it. He had overheard one of the guards talking on the day that he had reported Xaiver. Apparently, they were looking for some men to go out on a voyage to slay a nasty kraken that was causing problems around the Cape of Dread. It was to be his most dangerous job yet, very few people, even heros, had survived an encounter with a kraken. But if he wanted Cammilia's hand, he had to sign up to help.

"It's the only way to go about it." He told Archer, who was sitting on his bed. The dog whined and looked up at Victor with his deep brown eyes. Victor picked up his bow and quiver from the corner. His mother and Henery were in the next room, chopping potatoes and celery for dinner.

"Mother, Henery?" Victor cleared his throat.

"Victor, it's about time you got back. Here, give us a hand with these accursed vegetables!" Dawn replied, barely looking at him.

"I can't." His mother stopped peeling a potato and stared at him.

"Why not?"

"I'm going to go and sign up for the kraken hunt actually." Henery grinned at Dawn.

"It's just like him to pretend to be a hero to get out of a decent days work." Victor shot his older brother a poisonous glare.

"Even so son, Victor should explain himself." Dawn looked up towards Victor, awaiting a response.

"I need to make enough money to give Cammilia a proper wedding, and buy a home for us afterward."

"The only thing that you'll accomplish by joining that half-cocked crew is death." Henery responded.

"Henery, it Victor wants to throw his life away, then let him. One less mouth to feed I say." Henery smiled cruelly at his mothers harsh words.

"It's not as if his mouth even deserves to be fed in the first place. He barely chips in after all."

"I have a very important job Henery. Think about that the next time you travel through Darkwood." Victor replied harshly. Henery dropped his potato and pushed the kitchen chair aside. He advanced on his younger brother.

"The funniest thing about you Victor, is that you act so proud of yourself, as if you're making an actual dent, but in truth, you're really not. Every time I head through that forest, I still get jumped by hobbes or bandits, even within days of your so-called conquests. Why not just own up to the fact that you're too lazy to become a farmer like the rest of us, so you spend your life practicing a dead art to pass the time and feed your overactive imagination? You're not a hero Victor, and you never will be." Victor clenched his fists tightly. Without warning, he struck his older brother in the face, drawing blood.

"Henery! Victor! Stop this now!" Dawn commanded. Henery regained his balance and looked at his little brother.

"You think that you're a man now? Ready to get married and go fight monsters? Well then why don't you proove it?" Henery lunged at him, tackling him to the floor. Victor struggled to get up, but his older brother's firm grip on his shirt held strong. Wave after wave of sharp blows were dealt between the siblings, their mothers desperate pleas unheard.

"BOYS!" Dawn finally screamed as loud as she could. Both men looked up at her, beaten and bloody. Henery had blood trickling down the side of his jaw, and Victor now sported a nasty looking black eye. "I have a customer coming within the hour, and I don't want my private brothel to look like a butcher shop. Now get out, both of you!" The younger sibling stood, and glared at his mother and brother. Then he stormed out of the house. Henery's sour laughter echoed behind him. Victor whirled around to lock eyes with him. Henery spat some dark blood and then continued to laugh.

"You'll never be a real man Victor. Not in a hundred years." Victor glared at him.

"Watch me."

It was early morning the next day. The sea air was beginning to grow chilly, a sign of the coming winter. Victor stood on the docks, Archer and his lovely Cammilia there to see him off. The ship, titled _"Heaven's Beacon" _was moored in beside him, towering over him. Most of the crew, consisting of town guards, thugs, and any of the other men who had volunteered to go and face the dreaded kraken were already aboard.

"Oi Victor! We be a'pullin' out real soon. Kiss the little lady and get on board eh?" On of the thug-types called down to Victor from the stern of the ship. Victor nodded and turned to face Cammilia and Archer. The shepard approached Victor, eyes full of adventure and loyalty, but also fear and loss. Victor smiled and ruffled the dog's fur. He knew that this might be the last time he would ever see his fateful companion.

"Take care of yourself old boy." He whispered as he wrapped his arms around the dog's thick neck. He let Archer go, and smiled up at Cammilia. "And her as well." The dog returned the gentle goodbye with a bark. Victor got up off of his knees and slowly walked to Cammilia's side. She too, was looking nervous and very forlorn. She was twiddling her engagement ring around her finger nervously.

"Victor, you don't need to do this. We can be the first couple to break Oakvale tradition, become original." She begged. Victor clasped her trembling, cold hands. He removed his thick bear pelt and lovingly wrapped it around her body.

"You'll catch a death of pneumonia if you stay outside dressed like that." Was all that he said to her. Cammilia stroked the soft pelt and then smiled up at him.

"Be careful out there, my reckless one." She spoke softly. Victor smiled warmly and his eyes lit up with desire and happiness.

"I shall return before you know it. Until then, farewell, my darling Cammilia." The young man, who trembled now more than she, withdrew his hands and climbed aboard the large vessel. As the ship pulled free of the dock, Victor stood at the stern, and holding onto the side of the ship, he waved and watched his beloved fiance' grow smaller and smaller, until she, Archer, and the rest of Oakvale, disappeared into the fog of morning.

Being out at sea was something that was new to him. He listened as the sea moaned and the seagulls shrieked high overhead. Victor inhaled a breath of salty air, his every sense alive with vigor and excitement. But he couldn't fight the feeling of dread that was quickly growing in his twisted stomach.

"Attention! All the members of the _"Heaven's Beacon" _crew come to the center of the deck!" A gruff voice roared. Victor stepped down from the stern and headed towards the center. The other crew members were gradually filling in beside him, and there was a huge man in the center of the crowd. His dark red hair was held back in a ponytail, and his green eyes gleamed with power and tenaciousness. Once every man had assembled around the center of the ship, he eyed each member of his new crew carefully, before opening is thin lips to speak.

"I would like to welcome you all to life aboard my vessel, but I fear that would be a complete and utter lie. Truth is, I'm not one for formalities, nor for bending the facts. And the facts are, a lot of you, nay, most of you will probably die to this beast that we're about to face. My only greeting to you is this one: Thank you for your help, and if you survive, I'll buy you a pint. That is all." Several murmurs began to rise up from the crowd. The captain whirled around, and his wild eyes glared at the men instantly.

"Oi! I don't tolerate mutiny either. Last poor fool who attempted to strike me down, was sent back to his wife in a burlap sack. Can't be sure he actually ever made it to her though, tell you the truth, seeing as I just dumped the bloody thing into the sea."

"At least tell us your name!" One anonymous voice cried out. The captain smiled and stroked his thick matching beard of crimson.

"Sergio. That will be all." The captain answered them, before heading down below deck.

Victor sat below deck in his chamber, which he shared with two other crew members. His bunk was moldy and uncomfortable, and he was finding sleep difficult, though it had come easy enough for his roommates. Instead, he sat at the small table in the room, writing a letter to his Cammilia:

_My dear Cammilia,_

_It has been only a week, but I miss you terribly. How are things back in Oakvale? I am still getting used to this seafarer lifestyle, its difficult to keep my balance whilst walking about. Captain Sergio is an imposing man, he keeps the crew in line and the ship running smoothly. There was a mild fight on board yesterday. Two of the men got into it over the last of the biscuits. I spend my days watching the sea and reading. One of my bunk mates, Gregg, is a friendly sort. He's very strong for his size, and Captain Sergio has him doing much of the heavy lifting on deck. He has been teaching me about constellations, and I delight in identifying and watching the heavens these days. I hope that old Archer is well, is he causing you much trouble? We are still far from the lair of the kraken, but most of the men are getting excited already. I am as well, for few have killed such a beast. It reminds me of an old hero story I read once, do you remember the tale of that man who was also from Oakvale? He had a blind sister, and wielded a magic blade. I can't seem to recall his name at the moment, but I read that he killed a kraken before. For your sake Cammilia, I would be like that man and become a legend. Try not to worry about me, and yes, I will be careful. In closing, I ask that you keep me close in your heart and thoughts, I shall be returning to you as soon as I can._

_Your loving fiance',_

_-Victor_

Victor concluded his letter and put the quill back into the ink well. He waited for the ink to dry before rolling up the letter and stuffing it into an empty bottle. Victor yawned loudly as he felt fatigue finally overtake him._ I shall send the letter in the morning. _He told himself. Then he crawled into his hammock, and blew out the candle.


	7. Chapter 7

The _"Heaven's Beacon"_ sailed on, in and out of weeks, until the curved cliffs of the Cape of Dread came into view. The crew all glowered up at the ominous structures that seemed to pierce the sky with their tips. Hungry waves roared and tossed against the mighty ship as they began to curve in towards the cape. Victor watched as the leaden grey skies danced with drizzle and salty spray. Captain Sergio had talked to the crew that morning, saying that they were nearing the beasts lair.

"You can expect to come face-to-face with his ugly mug come nightfall." A voice behind Victor caused him to jump. He looked over his shoulder and saw the captain grinning at him. The man always seemed so intimidating, so unapproachable. But when he smiled, he took on almost a jolly demeanor. Victor slowly returned the expression, still nervous around the gruff captain. "Are you scared boy?" Sergio continued. Victor looked up at the black jutting cliffs.

"It doesn't matter. This is something that I have to do." The captain's grin continued to widen, until he burst out laughing. Victor was both jolted and offended by his reaction.

"What's so funny?" He asked. The burly man sat and wiped a tear from his green eye.

"Oh, I had no idea that you were one of_ those _types...sorry boy, I just couldn't help myself."

"One of what types?"

"The type that faces death in the face for a greater cause. You know, like those hero thingies."

"What's so wrong with being a hero?" Victor asked. He was beginning to dislike this man.

"Not wrong, rare. I haven't seen one of them for years now. Their noble breed has been growing scarcer."

"I'm confused. Do you like or dislike heros then?" Victor inquired.

"I like them well enough. But I think there might be a small misunderstanding. I was laughing at you, not your morals boy." Sergio replied with a smirk.

"Me?! What's so funny about that?" Victor bristled.

"Well, you're just so young, yet your words are so noble and brave. It just seemed a little odd."

"I'm 18 thank you very much. Besides, what does age have to do with bravery or nobility?" Victor retorted defensively. Sergio just continued to smile.

"Why are you really here? That's all I really want to know. Something tells me that it has less to do with bravery and more to do with nobility." Victor paused, afraid that the captain would laugh at him again if he told him that it was to earn enough money to pay for his wedding. But he decided to take that chance.

"I need the bounty in order to wed my sweetheart back in Oakvale. It's tradition there for the groom to have a certain amount set aside for the marriage." He explained. Sergio's smile melted and his face paled.

"You're risking your life just to be able to give some girl a proper wedding? I was right, you are a noble one."

"I just love her, that's all. She really deserves far more than even I can give her." The captain patted Victor on the shoulder.

"We all try to do our best for the ones we love. If you truly love someone, yet think that they deserve more, then you're already giving that person the purest love that they shall ever find."

"Thank you for that."

"So, what's her name?"

"Cammilia."

"Pretty name. I have a woman back on the land as well. Her names Bethany. Ah, I miss her so much sometimes!" Sergio looked away towards the sea, and Victor was unsure if it was spray or tears that dripped across the captain's cheek.

"Why not go and visit her after this kraken is dead?" The young man asked. The captain looked at him again, straightening his posture and clearing his throat.

"You know what boy? I think that's exactly what I'll do."

As the day waned on into the darkness of night, the waters grew choppier and more uncertain. In the distance, low rumbles and stark flashes filled all the crewmen with both fear and wonder. It was the start of a very bad Sergio stood firmly at the bow of the ship, carefully scanning the ink black sea. Victor, curiously approached him.

"Any sign of it?" He asked.

"No. But he'll show up." The captain never broke contact with the ocean as he spoke. Victor traced the stitching on his leather quiver. He had been ready for weeks now. To kill this monster, and return to his darling Cammilia.

"How are you so sure?" Victor inquired. Captain Sergio looked the young man dead in the eyes. They seemed to flash as the lightning in the distance lit up the night sky.

"Because he's not just any kraken boy. This is the big one: The Nocturnal Kraken."

"I didn't know that there was more than one type of kraken."

"Oh aye. Several different types of that particular beastie. Some look like squids, hundreds of feet long, others look like sea serpents with terrible teeth and white eyes. But the nocturnal bastard is the worst. It's a blessing that he only comes out at night." The captain explained. Victor listened intently, still stroking his quiver, Captain Sergio glanced over at the young man that he had taken such a liking to. The boy seemed dependable, and he was noble. "Victor." Victor was surprised to hear the captain calling him by his actual name. For nearly a month, it had been 'boy'.

"Yes captain?"

"Please, from now on, call me Sergio. I want you to make me a promise."

"Anything."

"If I don't make it back to port, don't get to see my Bethany ever again..." His voice trailed off.

"Sergio?" Victor inquired.

"...She's pregnant right now. If I die, I'll not only be leaving her, but I'll also be leaving my unborn child alone in this damned world. If I hadn't decided to become a sailor, well naturally I wouldn't be in this mess right now." Victor thought hard, pondering his words. A cold fear gripped him as he suddenly remembered his profession. Bounty Hunter. That was even more dangerous than being a sailor, by far. Images of Cammilia began to flood his mind. Her fair sun-kissed skin, her long wavy golden locks, and her radiant smile. Ah, her smile! What would happen to her, if he for some reason never returned from a quest one day? The poor woman had already lost not one, but two families to death. Victor shook his head hard. _No, she'll never feel such loss again. Somehow, somehow I'll figure out a way to make sure of that!_

"That would be horrible." Victor concluded.

"Victor, I want you to take care of your woman, your Cammilia. Love her tenderly, treat her to new experiences and places. And have yourself a family. There is nothing out there more important that love, never forget that." Victor nodded understandance.

"I promise." Sergio gave him a solemn smile.

"Good." RRRROAAAN! A sorrow-filled howl livened up the empty night. The men on board the _"Heaven's Beacon"_ all froze, for none of them had ever heard such a sound before. None of them, except Captain Sergio. He looked at Victor.

"He's here." The captain rushed to the middle of the deck. "Nocturnal Kraken! Man your weapons and ready yourselves, this is it!" The crew started to move instantly, grabbing cutlasses, manning harpoon guns, and securing arrows. Captain Sergio once again, faced the howling sea. "Alright beastie. I know that you're here. Come on out, I'm ready for you!" The wind whipped around Victor, threatening to tear his quiver from his back. He readied his bow, and pointed it at the bubbling black sea. _This is for you, Cammilia. I'll be home to you again soon, and then I'll never leave your side again. _

"Where are you damn it!?" Yelled Gregg, his heavy axe shined brightly as another thunderclap lit up the deck. Whump! A heavy blow from below their feet caught the crew of the _"Heaven's Beacon"_ off guard. Victor and several other crew members lost their balance and fell back. The ship rocked and creaked, the deck strewn with men, desperate to find anything to cling to in order to prevent their plummet into the unforgiving blue. RRRROAAAN! The cry came again, followed by a burst of icy brine. Victor opened his eyes and his felt his pupils dilate. He was staring at a relic, and ancient one, a true monster. The Nocturnal Kraken, in all its horrific glory, was before him. Victor had thought that trolls were big, but compared to this giant, they were mere toys. The kraken's body was indeed so large, that Victor couldn't even see the head. It was like looking at a scaly black wall, rising up out of the ocean. Gregg charged in towards the creature, axe drawn. He plunged it deep into the krakens body. A deafening screech seemed to emit from the heavens as the wall of kraken writhed and twisted in agony. Captain Sergio raised his left arm.

"Now! Attack him while he's distracted." The crew wasted no time in firing arrows, slashing with swords, cutlasses and axes, or firing the many harpoon guns into the menace. Within moments, black blood covered most of the vessel, and every crew member was soaked in it. The monster gave one last annoyed moan before sinking back into the depths. One of the guards cheered.

"We did it! The blighter's dead!" He rushed to where the giant wall of beast had been, and spat overboard. "Yeah! Take that ye bastard!" Captain Sergio's eyes widened.

"No! Ross, get back!" But the warning came far too late. The crew stepped back as the head of the massive kraken swooshed back up from the ocean. Despite his life being in great danger, Victor couldn't help but admire the great beast. The head as large as a house, was full of terrible white teeth and thick black scales. But what Victor was most impressed by, were the creatures eyes. Two enormous white orbs, full of might, and full of wisdom. Eyes older than time itself. There was nothing that the rest could do, as the massive mouth took up Ross and swallowed him. The kraken finished its meal and then once more disappeared below the raging surf. "Brace yourselves men!" Captain Sergio ordered. Victor grabbed the side of the ship with his free hand, clenching his bow in the other. Whump! Another powerful blow rattled the crew as the beast rammed its head into the bottom of the _"Heaven's Beacon". _Victor barely held on, but watched three men who weren't as fortunate fall into the sea. He grabbed harder into the wood. _I shall return to you Cammilia, no matter what, I'm coming home. _

"Victor! Are you alright?" Asked Gregg, covered in the thick black blood, more of which was on him than his axe.

"Yes, I think so." Gregg reached over, and helped his friend back to his feet. Victor wiped some of the blood from his own clothing. He looked out over the sea. It seemed to be calming.

"Is that it then? Did the ugly bugger just give up then?" Gregg scoffed. Victor shrugged.

"I don't know, but I hope so." Slowly, the low whispers of the remaining crew grew into murmurs, and then finally, cheers.

"We did it!" Yelled one.

"We can go home now!" Proclaimed another. Even Captain Sergio seemed cautiously optimistic. Victor and Gregg joined the others and began to rejoice. But their celebrating was cut short, by a loud and sickening crack.

"What was that?" Victor asked Sergio. "It sounds like how wood splinters when you chop it." The captain gave Victor a strange look.

"It does doesn't it?" He answered sadly. Victor was confused. Never in his life had he seen an expression such as this. Fear mixed with sorrow, joy and remorse.

"Sergio? What's the matter?"

"Can you swim boy?"

"Well enough. Why Sergio, whats happening?" Sergio didn't answer. He didn't have to. Another crack came, and this one showed its source. The deck began to splinter and a large fissure opened up from below deck. Cold sea water filled the tear. The ship was going down! Being dragged to a watery grave by the kraken. Victor's eyes were wide and helpless. After all he had done, fate had already decided. He was going to die, and he was never to see his darling Cammilia again.

"We're doomed." Victor whispered. Sergio clapped a firm hand down on the young mans shoulder.

"We may be, but not you."

"Why not?!" Sergio handed Victor a large keg. The last beer keg that the crew had on board. He tied one end to a rope to the keg, and the other to Victor's leg. "What are you doing?" Sergio finished his knot and smiled up at Victor with kind, understanding eyes.

"I'm not about to have you die here. You made me a promise boy, and you're not getting out of it that easily." Victor could hardly belive what he was hearing. Before he could object, the captain pushed the young man overboard.

"Sergio, why are you saving me? Why not save yourself?" Victor choked through the sudden splash. The captain looked down at him through peaceful eyes.

"You will understand when you get that family, don't make the same mistake I did Victor. Farewell." Another crack followed by a wave of saltwater, and the ship began to sink, taking the rest of the crew with her. Within seconds, the _"Heaven's Beacon"_ had vanished.

"Sergio!" Victor cried though the violent surf and raging winds.


	8. Chapter 8

Victor held as tight as he could to the keg as it bobbed and drifted over the now peaceful ocean. Had he not been there, he could have never guessed that a storm had ravaged the sea just moments before. _Why Sergio? Why save me and not yourself?_ Victor pondered in his mind. He suddenly remebered the promise that he had made! Sergio's words echoed loudly into the back of his skull:

_"Victor, I want you to take care of your woman, your Cammilia. Love her tenderly, treat her to new experiances and places. And have yourself a family. There is nothing out there more improtant that love, never forget that."_

"I will make it back Cammilia, somehow, some way, I shall see you and Oakvale again, I promise." His voice was the only sound for miles around. Just a lone man adrift in an icy sea. Victor's body was trembling, his heart was racing. The water was getting cold-too cold. He had to find land, or he would never see it again. Frantically, his eyes scowered the endless blue before him. There was absolutly nothing, save for the cliffs of the Cape of Dread. _If I can just make it over there, then maybe I could find a place to climb out._ It would take a considerable amount of stamina and willpower on his part, but if he stayed in the sea much longer, he knew that he would freeze to death. It was a long shot, but Victor had to try. He didn't know what he would find there, or if there would even be a place for him to exit the sea. Victor knew that if he exausted himself from the swim, if he reached the cape to find nothing, then he would be spent, and so would his life. Victor lunged forward in the water, changing his direction towards the black structures. He paddled hard, fighting to keep his body moving. His long arms, strong from years of archery, chopped through the water like it were butter. Closer and closer he came to the steep cliffs. Salt water stung his eyes and face as he swam, and his tired and sore muscles begged him to stop. But Victor wouldn't stop, he couldn't stop. He had to make it back to his beloved. As the cape grew closer and closer, Victor's friged body began to revitalize. He was making good progress.

"Just a bit further."He grunted through a mouthful of brine. "I'm coming home to you Cammilia!" Through his sharp eyes, Victor could now see a small cove less than fifty feet away. much to his realif. At long last, Victor's discolored hand grabbed the sharp rocks along the capes shore. He pulled himself free of the ocean and lay upon the beach. The sand was still warm, and it felt so good. He grabbed handfuls of sand and threw them on top of his body, burying himself. Within minutes, his shivering subsided, and he felt himself relax._ I made it. _He told himself with a contented grin. _I'm still alive. _

Victor awoke to a morning of harsh sunlight. His mouth felt dry and gravely, and his body much the same. He was still buried in the sand, and having been covered overnight, he was starting to feel overheated. Victor brushed the heavy piles of sand off of himself, and then struggled to stand. His weary mind slowly began to put together what had transpired. The _"Heaven's Beacon"_ had been sunk by the Nocturnal Kraken, and with her, all of the crew, save himself. Victor looked out over the expanse of the blue. In the distance, he could still see bits of wood drifting in and out on the tide. How had he ever managed to swim this far in hyperthermic conditions?

"Maybe Henery was wrong after all, maybe I actually am a hero." He scoffed. "I'd love to see the look on his face then." His voice was raspy, and he knew that he now had another problem on his hands. Water. Being learned from years of reading his vast array of books, he knew better than to drink seawater, Victor knew he had to venture into the cove and try to find an aquaphor or another form of fresh water. He tore free some material from his trousers, and tied them around a peice of driftwood.

"Now to find something to light it with." He spoke aloud.

"Perhaps, I can assist you with that." A deep voice called. Victor involunatrily grabbed for his bow and an unused arrow. He whired around and jolted back at the face he beheld. Xaiver stood there, smiling his dark grin.

"Hello to you too Victor. Can I assume that you've taken to murdering your old friends?"

"Xaiver?! What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh thats right! I seem to have forgotten my appointment to be burned at the stake." He glared at Victor. "Sorry to dissapoint you." Victor felt a wave of guilt.

"Xaiver, I was only acting with the best intentions for the village. You're behaviour has been getting progressivly more disturbing, and I didn't want anyone to end up like that deer." Victor explained. Xaiver smirked.

"Can't a will user be left to train and learn in peace anymore?" He mused, not even looking at Victor. He turned and glared at his old friend. "But I can accept fate, unlike _you_. If I have to be forced from my home, just in order to enjoy my life, than so be it." He hissed.

"Xaiver. You're not a will user, nor a wiccen. What you are doing is nothing short of witchcraft. I am the gaurdian of Oakvale, and I could not just stand around and put those people in danger. Espessialy Cammilia, you made a direct threat to the woman I love!" Xaiver chuckled.

"Victor, I told you why I'm here. So what is your reason?"

"None of that matters now. I need to get out of here and head home." Victor snapped.

"I live in that cave behind you. I see everything that goes on off the Cape of Dread. You wouldn't belive what I saw last night." Xaiver started. Victor closed his eyes, remebering the shipwreak, and the deadly kraken. The promise he had made, and the strange look that Captain Sergio had given him, before going down with his ship. He knew that Xaiver knew what he was doing on the cape. No doubt he had seen Victor struggle ashore last night as well. There was no point in playing th fool.

"I was part of a crew of bounty hunters sent to sea to kill the Nocturnal Kraken. We failed miserably."

"So you are the lone survivor hmmm? Looks like you were extremly lucky there. To think that you came that close to death." Xaiver replied.

'I know." Victor looked up at the warlock. He was still wearing the same dark villager clothes that he always had, back in Oakvale. "Xaiver, do you know if there is any water around here?"

"Indeed I do. Here." Xaiver summoned a fireball and lit Victor's makeshift torch. He headed down into the recesses of the cove, and signaled for the young man to follow. "Watch your step. It gets a bit...trechorous, from here on out." Victor nodded as he closed in behind Xaiver. He didn't think about why he was even listening to such a dangerous man, nor why he was following him into a dark cove. Victor was too tired to think, to tired to reason. Only one thought filled his head-getting back home to Cammilia. He couldn't belive that Xaiver was still alive. Victor still recalled the day when he had turned his friend into the sheriff. It had left him feeling awful, even though he knew that it had to be done.

"Xaiver?"

"Yes?"

"How did you manage to escape? And what are you doing way out here?"

"I had my ways." The evil man replied. Through the darkness to the damp cove, Xaiver's eyes gave off a vile hue. They seemed more vibrent, more intense to Victor than the usual amber irises he had. "Well, here we are. If you wanted water, take it." Victor held out his torch. Large pools of crystal water stood all around him. They glistened as the roof of the cove cast drops of dew down into their depths. The soft clicking noises of water dropletts echoed around the two men.

"Where are we?" He asked.

"It's an underground cavern. There happens to be a rather large aquaphor that ditributes the water into those pools there." Victor, overwhelmed by thirst, rushed to the nearest pool and dropped to his knees. Cupping his hands, he plunged them into the pool, disrupting the surface as he did so. He hesitated, and looking in Xaiver's direction, he sniffed at the liquid in his hands. Xaiver's laugh rocked the cove.

"Oh please! If I had wanted to kill you I wouldn't have resorted to poison Victor. I know how to cast spells, remember?" Victor slowly took a sip.

"Yes, I know. But I didn't just survive a kraken attack and swim hundreds of feet in an icy ocean to die in some cave." He was far less discherning with his next sip. When his thirst was satisfied, Victor rose to his feet and walked back over to Xaiver. "Besides, I still don't trust you."

"Fair enough, although its very ironic that the man who betrayed me would say that."

"Just tell me how you got here so that I can get back to Oakvale." Victor replied sourly.

"I'm afriad that I can't do that." Victor stared at him.

"And why exactly not?"

"Because Victor, I teleported myself here, using my magic, a trait that you don't share." Victor sighed and began to pace.

"Then how am I ever going to return to Oakvale?"

"You could build a boat. Might take some time though." Xaiver chuckled mockingly.

"Even so, I don't know where Oakvale is from here. I don't even know where we are now!" Victor was growing impatient. "I mean, I know we're on the Cape of Dread, but that cape goes on for miles. I could sail for a year before I realized that I was heading in the wrong direction." Xaiver watched him pace for a few more moments, enjoying Victor's predicament. _Ah! You did your job well, my Nocturnal Kraken, for you brought Victor to me. But alas, this is only phase one. The real challenge is about to begin. _The sinister warlock smiled though crooked yellow teeth. It was time to set the plan in motion.

"Victor, I may be able to offer you a small bit of assistance." The young man stopped pacing, and looked at him.

"Assistance? Why would you help me after I turned you in?" It seemed suspicious. His hydration and strength renewed, Victor was slowly starting to realize that being alone with Xaiver was a very dangerous predicament indeed. He began to slowly trace the stitching on his quiver again, as he often did when he was nervous. He still didn't know how Xaiver had survived the troop of gaurds that had been sent to arrest him, and he honestly didn't want to know.

"I understand why this all seems odd to you Victor, but I really do want to help you."

"I'll ask you again. Why?"

"As the gift of course! No doubt you took that bounty hunting job to pay for the wedding. So, as much as I dislike the idea of you marrying my...sister...I still want to follow tradition. So, will you accept my gift?" Xaiver explained. Victor still was wary of his words. They just didn't seem right coming from a man who was so twisted and dark. But he had to get back home. To Archer, to Cammilia. He had to say yes, for their sake.

"Fine. But this dosen't mean that I've forgiven you."

"Agreed. Now, lets see what we can do about getting you back home eh? Follow me." Xaiver turned the corner and headed down a steep path. Victor was glad that he still had his torch as the passage thinned and became slippery and rugged.

"Where are we going?" Victor asked. The warlock didn't answer him. They kept walking until the two men reached an indent in the tunnel.

"Just a little farther. There is a room up ahead with means for your departure inside." Xaiver spoke through the darkness. They entered the next room, and Victor was realived to see light filtering down through a crack in the roof of the cave. The cavern was small and empty, save an odd outcrop of rock towards the back. Victor curously decided to investigate. He peered over the outcrop and saw a deep hole. On closer inspection, there appeared to be something thick and dusty at the bottom.

"There's something down there." He exclaimed.

"What is it?" Xaiver asked.

"It looks like a box or a small chest of some kind. I'm going to see if I can reach in here and grab it." Victor set his torch down and extended his arm over the outcrop and into the hole. It was a tight fit, but his fingers traced the cold object, and he was able to pull it closer. His hand finally pulled it free. It was an ancient silver chest, roughly the size of a woman's jewlery box. Remnints of worn writing traced the sides in a dead languge. Victor looked in wonder at the strange treasure he had found.

"I had heard of there being treasure on the Cape of Dread, but you're lucky to have found some by accident like that." Xaiver remarked. Victor was as excited as he was overjoyed. Whatever this box contained was sure to be valuable. _If I take this back home with me and sell it to a trader, maybe the money will be enough to pay for the wedding! _Maybe his trek out to sea hadn't been a waste after all!

"I wonder what's inside?" Victor asked, never taking his eyes off the chest in his trembling hands.

"Well, why don't you just open it and see?" Xaiver replied sarcastically. Victor slowly undid the rust-covered latch and opened the chest. But much to his dismay, there was no gold. No ancient artifact. No rare jewels. All that the chest revieled, was a worn black book. It was quite thick, and there was a red serpantine dragon circleing around itself on the cover. Victor was very disappointed, but also very intrigued. He had always loved books, but he had never seen such an old tome. Worthless or not, such an ancient work of literature was still a treasure to Victor.

"Its some sort of a tome."

"Whats it about?"

"I can't tell. Theres no title." Victor answered, as he opened to the first page. The leathery pages had a sickening, yet tantilizing quality to them. Each page he turned, Victor dared no more, but at the same time, he couldn't stop. He finally reached a page, midway through the book, that caught his eye. He could barely make out the words, but their meaning was still very clear:

_ The softness of a babies skin,_

_ In time shall fade away_

_ The blueness of a madiens eyes_

_ Will one day turn to grey_

_ Even the bravest warrior_

_ Can be smited by his foe_

_ But if you utter these few words_

_ Such fate thou never know_

There was a small paragraph at the end of the poem. Victor had heard of spell books before. Tomes created by the wizaned rulers of the Old Kingdom that gave the reader the power to change reality, summon minions, or weave spells, by simply reciting a few words. He was pretty sure that this was one such book.

"You know Victor, you could really use a book like this one." Xaiver whispered into his ear. His hot breath burned as he finished speaking. Victor looked over his shoulder at him.

"What do you mean? My life is perfect just the way it is."

"But not if you were to loose it." The warlock retorted. Victor's heart raced. Xaiver had always known of his fear of death, ever since they were children.

"I'll just have to be careful."

"But why take the chance? You are about to marry Cammilia, you'll have a wife, a house, and probably a new baby before you know it. Why leave such beautiful things to chance?" Xaiver walked around Victor, and faced him. His wild amber eyes suddenly flashed red. "Or do you want to end up like Captain Sergio?" Victor stepped back. How did Xaiver know about that? He recalled the promise that he had made to the captain, before the chaos had struck.

"These books can be complictated. Read one line wrong, and there could be dire consiquences." He reasoned.

"Well, its your book, I'm not going to tell you what to do with it. But I do owe you a gift still."

"I was going to ask you, how do you intend to get me back to Oakvale?" The warlock closed his eyes and recited some strange, grumbled words. Victor clenched the box tightly to his chest as the words grew louder, and Xaiver's face paled. A blue light welled up in the palm of his right hand, as sweat poured down the warlocks brow.

"Xaiver? What's going on? Xaiver!" Victor yelled, growing concerned. With a primitive yell, Xaiver forced his palm against Victor. Victor gave a yelp of surprise as he was thrust back into the blue light. The cove faded around him and the outlines of his village began to knit and trace through the blue light like patchwork, until a covered bridge, the scent of earthy soil, and the sound of childrens laughter filled his senses. He was back in Oakvale.


	9. Chapter 9

The strange silver chest still in his grasp, Victor walked across the village. He was surprised at how quickly winter had come. The once rich vibrant hues of autumn had been replaced by the dismal greys, highlighed against a white sky, fit to burst with snow. A bitter wind whipped past him as he continued on his way. _How did Xaiver do that? I knew that he could use spells, but if he's strong enough to use a teleportation spell on someone other than he, just how long has be been practicing at this? _The thought worried him, but the young man found contentment in the knowledge that the warlock was now miles away, living as a hermit on the Cape of Dread. When he reached the fork in the path, Victor stopped short. Did he really want to go home? After all, the kraken hunt had been a failure, and the last thing that he needed after such an ordeal was to be mocked and taunted by his brother. On the other hand, he couldn't face Cammilia empty handed. He had failed her more than anyone, there would be no gold for their wedding. Victor groaned in frustration.

"Hey Victor!" A small voice exclaimed. Victor looked up and smiled at the sight of Becky. The small child was always so happy to see him. When the girl reached him, she tackled her small arms around his legs, neary tripping him.

"It's great to see you too Becky." He smiled as he patted her head. Becky released her grip on his trousers and returned his gesture with a huge, childish grin of her own.

"Mummy and I were so scared when they said you had gone out to sea. But it looks like you're ok."

"Yeah, I'm ok, for the most part." His voice trailed off towards the end. Becky nodded. She stared at the strange box in his arms.

"Hey Victor? What is that thing?"

"Oh this? I really don't know, I found it while I was away." He held out the box for the child. Becky undid the latch and peered inside at the tome.

"Its just an old book, thats not a treasure." She replied confused as she shut the lid again, dissapointed.

"You mustn't talk that way about literature Becky. Books are very useful tools to humanity, and the older they are, usually means moreso." Victor explained.

"I guess I was just excited because I thought that it was treasure or a princesses jewelry or something like that. I didn't mean to critizize your find Victor, I'm sorry." She replied sheepishly. From in the distance, a woman's voice rang out.

"Becky! Becky, where are you? Come and help me bring in the rest of these chickens before the freeze sets in!" Becky looked up at Victor.

"I gotta go. See you later Victor, I'm so glad that you're back!" The child replied, before running back home. _So am I._ Victor thought. He sighed as he once again was faced with his decision. At least Cammilia would be glad to see him. With a desisive nod, Victor started down the left path that led to his beloved's small cottage. She was standing outside, along with Archer. The shepard barked loudly and charged his master at the sight on Victor. The young man squatted and help his arms open for the dogs greeting. Archer accepted, and put his paws on Victor's shoulders for support as he covered his face with wet kisses. Cammilia, destracted by the commotion, looked to where the dog had run. As Victor got up, the young woman gasped. Tears overflowed her eyes as she ran to his side. Victor embraced her and kissed her tenderly.

"Victor! You're home! Thank Avo!" She hugged him tighter. The young couple stood there and held each other, each as realived and overjoyed as the other, that their sweetheart was back in their arms.

"I've missed you Cammilia. I thought about you everyday." Victor stroked her long wavy hair.

"I missed you too. The village just wasn't the same without you. Speaking of which, there were three bandit attacks last week."

"Was anyone hurt?" Victor asked concerned. Cammilia shook her head.

"No, the gaurds took care of it, but they had trouble. No one deals with monsters and bandits like you darling." Remembering his promise to Sergio, Victor cleared his throat.

"I'm thinking about giving up the bounty hunting."

"What?! Why? Is this because of something that you're brother told you?" Cammilia asked, horrified.

"No, its not him. I had an epiphany at sea, and I made a friend a promise. A promise to take care of you and never let you suffer the absence of my demise."

"Victor, you're the best bounty hunter that Oakvale, nay, Albion has ever known. You're not going to die out there, and besides, what would become of this village without your protection?" She reasoned. Victor knew that she was right. If a well trained gaurd had had trouble with a few bandits, that told him something. Without Victor's well-aimed arrows, Oakvale would indeed be in trouble. _Sergio, I'm sorry, but I cannot give up my profession. My village needs me._

"You're right darling. Besides, I can still take care of you _and_ be a bounty hunter."

"Where are the others? Your friend and the rest of the crew?" Cammilia asked. Victor's silence gave her the answer.

"No...all of them?" She asked. Victor nodded. The young woman's heart froze, for she had not yet realized how close she had come to loosing the man she loved. "Oh Victor!" She embraced him again.

"I'm alright. But I'm afraid that since we failed to slay the kraken, I won't be getting that bounty." He looked away, ashamed.

"Victor, we don't need it. As long as I'm with you, I don;t need a fancy wedding or a new house."

"I truely am touched by you're devotion to me dear, but I must refuse. I wouldn't have risked my life if I didn't belive that you deserved a wedding, and somehow Cammilia, I am going to give you just that." The young man replied. Cammilia stared at him, overcome. But a small smile soon spread across her lips, which grew larger and larger, until her mouth parted and the lovely sound of her soft laughter filled the dreary day with cheer and warmth.

"And you call me devoted..." She grinned as her laugher subsided. Victor kissed her silken cheek. It was good to be home.

Victor was sitting outside with Archer, under an oak tree. The old tome was in his hands, and he was pawing through it. It gave him the same feeling of dread and desire as he turned each of the heavy pages gingerly. There were spells for just about everything he could imagine. Summoning the dead, changing the weather, there was even a spell for re-growing hair. But Victor was interested in none of these. What he was looking for, was completely differant.

"Ah! Here it is!" He exclaimed, startling the sleeping dog by his side. The yellowed page was like the rest, barely ledgible. But the young man could still make it out. With a deep breath, a brave Victor began to read the words aloud:

_ Through twists of fate and retribution_

_ Petty theft and execution_

_ Selling your flesh or betraying a friend_

_ Give me the means to the end_

He was a bit miffed to say the least when nothing happened. He closed the tome and tucked it away carefully back into the silver chest. Archer whined and Victor rubbed him behind the ears.

"Oh well boy, I suppose that I'm just not very good at reading incantaintions." He started to get up, but he felt heavier than usual. Victor then noticed that there was something heavy in his pocket. He pulled it out and gasped in amazement. His coinpurse was buldging, so full of gold that the sides were beginning to split. Victor greedily opened it and began to count the currancy.

"Nineteen-thousand and ninety-eight, nineteen-thousand and ninety-nine, Twenty thousand gold?!" He hurriedly stuffed the gold back into his pocket, and cautiously looked around. He had good reason to be nervous, because Victor now possesed more gold than anyone else in all of Oakvale. _It worked! The spell really worked! I have more than enough money to marry Cammilia! _He was too excited to sit still. He ran inside the cottage where Cammilia was making dinner. He lifted the unsuspecting woman off her feet and twirled her around like a child.

"Victor, what's gotton into you my love?" She asked, enjoying the excitement of Victor's spontainious.

"I did it! I managed to pull together enough gold to give you a fine wedding, and buy that quaint cottage by the bridge!" He replied proudly.

"In just an hour? I don;t understand." Cammilia looked at him warily. He opened the silver chest and presented her with the old book. He flipped open to the spell that he had just read. He read it aloud again, and his remaining pocket soon grew heavy with gold.

"See? Isn't it wonderful!" Cammilia gave out a shreik.

"Victor! You made all that money just by reading that book?!" She was shocked, and a little worried. She was happy for the gold, if it meant that she and Victor could be married at long last, but she was also troubled. Victor was acting strange. The man that she knew and loved did not read incantations. He was beginning to remind her of a man that she feared, of Xaiver. "Victor. Something about this doesn't feel right." She clasped his hands.

"What are you saying my Cammilia? We have more than enough gold now. Maybe we should think about moving to the city instead!" He replied greedily. But his celebration was cut short by the look that his beloved now gave him. Her face was awash with fear. "Cammilia? What's wrong?"

"My father was killed for using spells, even though he only used them for good. I don't want the same thing to happen to you. I love you." All of a sudden, Victor realized what he had just done. Oakvale was a very supersticious village, Rexley was proof of it. If someone had've witnessed him summoning that gold, he would have easily met the same gruesome fate. As much as the idea of unlimited currancy delighted and astounded him, he loved and respected Cammilia more. He could not leave her alone in this world, nor continue doing something that she disapproved of.

"Cammilia, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. It just seemed so amazing, to be able to have whatever you want just by reading a page from a book. But the price is still far to high." He replied with a gentle kiss. "I could never let you know the agony of my death, nor the bitter grip of loneliness." Cammilia touched his cheek.

"Victor, I want you to promise me that you shall never use that book again." Victor hesitated, lost in her eyes of crystalized blue.

"I promise you dear. I'll get rid of the book tommorow morning."

Victor held Cammilia close to his beating heart as he opened the front door to their new cottage.

"This is it. We're home love." He smiled as he gently set her to her feet. Cammilia giggled as she adjusted the small crown of flowers atop her head. Victor smiled at her cute antics. The couple had just gotton married down by the beach, and it was time for the long honeymoon to begin. Using the gold that he had summoned a week ago, Victor had been able to give her a lovely ceremony, and buy the new abode. He had buried the silver chest containing the ancient tome in the field across from the couples new home. Victor was satisfied that it was safe there, and he had vowed to Cammilia never to use it again.

"This is the start of something beautiful Victor. It's the start of forever." The young man leaned forward and kissed her pale pink lips.

"Yes darling, it truely is. I am looking forward to every moment of it." Cammila blushed as Victor ran his hand through her rich golden hair. The fire danced and spun shades of red and orange across it as his fingers played. Cammilia relaxed to his touch as his hand came down and began to trace the outline of her spine and waist. He pulled her close to his chest with the other, and she moaned softly as he tenderly nuzzled her flesh.

"I am your hero, and I shall always love and protect you."


	10. Chapter 10

The cold winter enveloped the small village into a world of white. The cold months left Oakvale a depressing and desolate place, as the villagers stayed in, leaving only to tend to their livestock secured safely in the barns and coops. Snow collected on the rooftops and the village well froze solid. Barren fields turned grey with a mix of soil and snow. Small iceburgs formed off the cost, and smoke wafted lazily from every chimmeny. Inside their new home, Victor and Cammilia were safe and warm. They spent the winter months holding each other as much and as often as they could. Archer was the only one, aside from the carefree village children that looked forward to trudging through the thick snow, and wet sleet. From the confort of a window, Victor would watch him chase and play with the youths. Becky was one of them. _She's growning up well, she'll be a young woman soon. _He remarked. Victor had always been fond of Becky, she had always brought him joy in his otherwise busy and hard life. He wondered if he would be blessed with a child of his own one day. He glanced back to the bed where his sweet Cammilia was sleeping, content with the passionate love he had just given her. _Maybe in time. I would certanily love to have a family with you. _The fire cracked and hummed as the log upon it was burned away. It was so cozy in his small abode, but Victor knew that unlike the other men in town, he was no farmer. He did not have the luxery of a winter break in his profession. And today was the day of his weekly bounty hunting trip. He begrudgingly reached for his bear fur and quiver. When he was ready to go, he tenderly planted a kiss on Cammilia's forehead before departing out the front door. Victor whistled for Archer, who came romping up to his master with glee. Snow and ice covered his thick winter coat, and his black sillouette stood out against the world of white.

"Ready to go kill some baddies?" Victor patted the excited dog. The shepard knew the word, "baddies" meant that he and his master would be going on a huntinng trip. Archer's ears pricked up excitedly as he cocked his head at the farmilier word. Victor laughed at the dogs exuberance. "Alright then, lets go." The two headed up the hill, and through the covered bridge. Onward they walked, the young man and the loyal black shepard by his side.

Darkwood was never a plesant place for Victor, nor anyone else who had the unfortunate fate to have to journey through the place. Bow and sharpened arrows in tow, Victor catiously scanned the area. The tangled mess of dead trees and Old Kingdom ruins made it difficult to see very far, and the mid-morning fog that wafted across the gloomy moors did nothing to help.

"Archer. Go!" Victor commanded. He had trained his dog with a few basic commands. "Go" was his que for Archer to run ahead and scout out the area. If the dog growled, Victor knew that there was an enemy in the distance. If the dog snarled, it meant that there was an enemy less than ten yards away, and if Archer returned, it told Victor that the way was clear and safe. Victor watched as the dog raced off through the fog. The young man waited, and listened intently. Within moments, he saw the shepard again.

"No baddies boy? Alright, well then we can just go home." Victor felt annoyed that he had to come all the way out to the woods when there was no work to be done. But it was still his job, whether it had been a mute point today or not. Victor turned on his heel and started back towards Barrow Fields. From behind, he heard a vicious roar. Victor whirled around in time to see a white balverine lunge towards him. Victor had no time to react. The great beast plummeted into him and pounded his skull into the earth with a powerful claw covered hand. Victor's eyes went wide as the creatures other hand came up, ready to tear him asunder. Through a blaze of black, Victor saw Archer leap through the air. The shepard landed on the balverines back. With a sickening pop, Archer dug is large fangs into the beasts eye. The monster gave a pain filled cry. It withdrew its hand in an attempt to rid it's face of the attacker. Victor struggled to his feet and pulled free his bow again. With one of his sharper arrows, Victor fired into the balverine's exposed chest. The white monstrosity howled loudly. Blood foamed out of its gurgling maw, and it fell forward. It's body gave one final lurch before falling silent.

"Archer! Release now!" Victor commanded. Archer withdrew his fangs from the mushed remains of the balverines eye. He loped to his masters side, expecting to be petted. Victor smiled as he gave in to the soft brown eyes. Victor crouched over the dead balverine. He pulled out his hunting knife and slashed the scruff from the beast. This was his trademark. He took no heads, lignments or other parts that most hunters did. Victor was only interested in the plummed fur that grew between the beasts shoulderblades. Not only was this the softest part of the monster, but it was also where the thickest fur grew. He would always take his prizes home and make them into clothes, bedding, or rugs. This particularly beautiful snow white pelt was for Cammilia'a Christmas presant. She was going to look radiant in the coat that Victor was planning to make for her. After carefully cutting muscel and fat from the pelt, so as not to get any blood on it, Victor cleaned his knife and wiped the remaining blood from the skin of the fur. Then he stuffed it into his hunting pouch. Archer was still at his feet, looking longingly up at him.

"You saved my life today boy, thank you." As he rubbed Archer, his thoughts began to haunt him again. _See how close you came to death today? How would Cammilia feel if she knew? Or worse, how would she feel when she realized that I wasn't coming back? We're married now, and I have to take care of her!_ He looked off into the dense fog.

"Let's go home boy." Victor exited the wood with no joy in his new trophy. He could kill monsters, survive a kraken attack, yet he was greatly disturbed that he still couldn't shake his deepest fear.

Christmas morning in Oakvale was the liviest day of winter. It was no differant at the Ashfield house. A warm fire kept the cottage toasty as Victor and Cammilia ate their holiday breakfast side by side. She had made him his favorite apple pie for the occasion. Victor's mouth savored the perfect mixture of cinnamon and suger that coated every of the tender bites of warm apple. The sweet crumbly crust melted in his mouth as he finished the last of his pie slice.

"Mmm, that was wonderul darling!" He complimented, pushing his plate away.

"I'm so glad that you enjoyed it Victor."

"I can't wait any more! Come on and open your gift now Cammilia!" Victor exclaimed with boyish delight. Cammilia laughed as she finsihed washing the last of the dishes.

"Alright dear, my you're excited this year!" She reached for a large white box with purple ribbon.

"How could I not be? It is our first Christmas together!" Cammilia smiled as she undid the ribbon and opened the box. Her eyes sparkled with delight with what she beheld. A pure white coat, complete with a hood.

"Oh Victor! It's the most beautiful coat I've ever seen!" She exclaimed. Victor got up from the table and took the coat from her. He lovingly placed it around her.

"The loveliest coat, for the loveliest woman in the world." He nuzzled her earlobe. "Oh? What's this?" Victor reached into his pocket. He handed Cammilia a small glass box. She took it and opened it. There was an expensive looking gold locket inside.

"Victor! I-I don't know what to say..." He pulled back her bouncy blonde hair and helped her put the necklace on. Then, clasp locked and in place, Victor went back to her ear.

"Merry Christmas." Cammilia turned around and kissed him.

"Now it's time for your presant." The young woman stood, her new white coat draping down over her slender body.

"Where is it?" Victor looked around curiously. Cammilia's eyes smiled with pride and delight. She took his hand and placed it lovingly onto her abdomen.

"Right here." Victor looked up at her. She was blossoming with delight and love.

"You mean you're with child?!" He was overjoyed. Cammilia didn't answer him, she didn't have to.

As the years came and went, life in the small farming communtity progressed without incident. Winters turned into wet rainy springs, then to hot summers spent by the cool shore. And of course, Farmer Ben and his wife had their annual harvest festival in autumn. Children went to school, and the youths soon grew into strong and determined young men and women. Victor continued be the protecter of Oakvale, and before long, his wife Cammilia bore him a daughter.

"Victor! Victor where are you?" Cammilia called out to her husband, her long blonde hair flowing down her shoulders and held back up top by a light blue kerchiff. Victor came running towards her, their young daughter Opal, trailing close behind.

"Victor Ashfield! What am I going to do with you? I've been calling your name for half an hour!" An annoyed Cammilia repremanded him. Victor just looked at young Opal and smiled.

"I was playing hide and seek with Opal. I'm sorry that I didn't hear you my dear." Cammilia just smiled tenderly at what a good father he was.

"Oh never mind. I just wanted to make sure that you two were alright thats all." Victor tassled the youths hair.

"Mommy, guess what? Daddy's gonna teach me to be a hero!" The exuberant youth declared. Cammilia bent down and smiled at her daughter through wide eyes.

"Is he now?" She glanced up at Victor playfully.

"Just a little bit here and now. It never hurts to have more swords protecting this village." He replied.

"But dad! You said that you were gonna teach me how to shoot arrows." The little girl argued. Victor laughed and smiled.

"Of course I am sweetheart. It's just a figure of speech."

"Oh." The little girl laughed before noticing some other children and rushed off after them. Victor and Cammilia were left all alone. Victor put his arm around his wifes waist. Cammilia returned the affection with a kiss on his cheek.

"She's growing up fast. Pretty soon she'll be better at archery than I am." Victor noted. Cammilia just smiled.

"Well she has a mighty fine teacher if you ask me." A loud bark broke the moment as Archer came bounding into view.

"Speaking of archery..." Victor ruffled the shepards fur. The dog's smooth black coat was showing signs of age, grey hairs now lined his muzzle and the tips of his perky ears. But despite this, Archer was still as energized and exuberant as ever, though Victor didn't take him hunting anymore. The dog had retired to a life of sleeping by a warm fire, and playing with the village children.

"Archer! Come on Archer, here boy!" Opal's small voice called out. The dog turned and chased after his young mistress, who gave a joyous laugh at their new game. Victor and Cammilia watched the two run off, his hand still grasping his wifes waist.

"You've made quite a life for her you know? Not many children have so many toys or a pet like Archer." Cammilia commented.

"I just love her so much. She's like a precious jewel to me." Victor replied.

"Hence what you named her." The young man chuckled, his six year old daughter was certainly his greatest joy.

"Her birthday will be comming up soon. I was thinking of giving her an opal necklace." Cammilia smiled, remembering her own necklace that Victor had given her for Christmas so many years ago. She still wore the golden locket around her throat, and she touched it lovingly.

"You really are the greatest man that I have ever met." She embraced her husband.

"Perhaps one day." He replied pessimistically.


	11. Chapter 11

"Papa! Papa, come quickly!" Opal came running up to Victor, tragedy written all over her small face. The young man was just returning from Barrow Fields with Archer, and he was covered in a thick layer of dirt and sweat after being in a complicated fight with a rather nasty troll who was guarding the entrance to Darkwood from merchants. He watched as his daughter threw her tiny arms around him. Victor had never seen her so panic-stricken, and he was instantly alarmed.

"Opal, whats happened? Are you alright?" He bent down and asked her. Opal nodded, but her face remained worried.

"It's not me, its something I found. Follow me!" The child ordered, and ran back towards the schoolyard. Victor shrugged as he watched her go. He patted Archer.

"It's not like Opal to be so serious. We'd better go see what she's so upset about." He proceeded to follow his daughter, the black shepard trailing behind him. When Victor reached the schoolhouse, he found Opal sitting by a pile of logs. There appeared to be something beside her, but from a distance Victor couldn't quite make it out. But as he walked closer, he could start to make out the body of a small animal. It was a small grey rabbit. Victor watched as the rodent struggled to breath, it was clearly in distress.

'Daddy, can you help him?" Opal begged, gazing upwards to her father. Victor knelt before the rabbit to try and get a better look. It didn't appear to be hurt, there was no blood.

"I don't know whats wrong with him Opal. I cannot help him if I don't know what he needs." Opal looked back to the rabbit. She extended her small hand and felt the soft fur. The creature tensed, but didn't try to run.

"Why is he just laying here? Why won't you scamper and jump like the other rabbits?" Opal asked, half to the rabbit and half to her father. Archer walked over and sniffed the animal. Once again, the rabbit tensed, but did not make an attempt to flee. Victor still couldn't figure it out. Rabbits were usually so skittish, that even their fellows could sometimes startle them into hiding. This particular individual was no different. Terrified and helpless, the rabbit obviously wanted nothing more than to flee from the three strange creatures before him, but didn't. _Or maybe you can't._ Victor pondered. He carefully picked up the animal. It gave a high-pitched cry, the same that rabbits gave when they were in serious distress. Opal leapt back at the sound.

"I didn't know that they made that noise." She commented. Victor nodded slowly, but kept his face down, examining the rodent.

"When they're startled they do. It's a survival tactic." He gently felt each of the rabbits legs. When he came to the right back haunch, he noticed that it was swollen. "I think that he has a damaged leg dear. That explains why he cannot run from us." Victor removed his hands from the animal, and Opal once more scooted closer.

"Poor thing. You can fix him can't you daddy?" She asked.

"I will try my best, but I'm a bounty hunter not a doctor. Your mother would be better at tending to him, take him to her." Victor smiled as Opal gingerly picked up the rabbit. It froze again whilst in her arms.

"Shhh, its alright sweet baby, I'm gonna make you better." The child crooned to the rabbit. The small creature seemed to relax at her soft words and warm embrace. Opal headed back towards home, leaving Victor and Archer alone in the deserted schoolyard.

Cammilia looked at the rabbits injury critically. It was not a broken leg, nor a sprained one. It was something very different, but the young woman couldn't figure out just what. Reluctantly, she reached for some mint leaves and pressed them into the animals haunch. Then she wrapped an old rag around the wound and the leaves. She set the rabbit down in the fenced off area of her garden, in with the carrots and tomatoes.

"I can't tell whats wrong with him Opal, but I put some mint leaves on his haunch, that should sooth the pain."

"Will he be ok mama?" The frantic child asked.

"All we can do now is wait and see." The mother patted her youth's head with a tender smile, before heading to the well to wash her hands. She saw Victor and Archer coming up before her, and she waved at her husband.

"Victor, so nice to see that you've returned darling!" Cammilia exclaimed. Victor approached the well and too began to wash himself. He cupped his hands with cool water before pouring it over his sweltering face and arms.

"You shouldn't be going on hunts when the weather is so hot dear, it's too hard on you."

"The monsters and bandits never take a day off, and so to shall I never have one." Victor replied.

"I just worry about you, that's all."

"Thank you my sweetness, don't think that I do not appreciate it either." He kissed her lovingly. Cammilia finished up with her hands.

"Opal brought me a rabbit this afternoon, I don't know if he's going to make it, but I did all I could for him."

"Yes, she showed it to me first, and asked if I could save him. I told her to take him to you."

"Opal is such a sweet and loving child. She has always wanted to help those around her." Cammilia mused.

"She could be a great doctor one day, or even a hero like myself."

"Are you still planning on teaching her then?" Victor nodded.

"Yes, this fall when the weather is cooler. I've already gotten her a toy bow for her seventh birthday." The proud father announced.

"You really do take such good care of us Victor."

"I do what I can." He replied, sadness and failure masking his tone. Cammilia put her arms around his shoulders, kissing the nape of his neck.

"You are way too hard on yourself you know? You always want to give us more when you are already giving us everything we need."

"You both just deserve so much, you deserve everything in the world, and more." Cammilia touched his cheek and turned his head towards hers. Her blue eyes dazzled with life and laughter.

"I already have everything, because I have you."

The days that followed the rabbit incident were hot and busy. Opal's birthday was coming up, the child would be seven. Her loving father had promised to start teaching her to defend the village after said birthday, and the little girl couldn't be anymore excited. Finally, the big day arrived. Opal sat impatiently at the table, watching her mother make her a blueberry pie. Victor had gone out, to invite his own family to the small gathering. Some of the village children were already playing outside of the Ashfield house, waiting for Opal to make her debut.

"Mama, what is taking so long? I want my pie now!" Cammilia looked up from her cooking and shot her persistent daughter an annoyed look.

"Why don't you go outside and play with your friends dear? Its a lovely day, and the pie will still take another hour or so." Opal huffed, but decided that it would be better than waiting around for her birthday pie. "Why don't you check on George while you're out there? Here, you can even take this carrot to him, I haven't fed him yet today." Cammilia added, handing Opal a limp carrot. The little girl smiled and left the cottage. Upon seeing her, the rest of the village children surrounded her, eager to give her the presents that they had made, and to get a good game of hero going.

"Opal! Happy Birthday!" Called one.

"Thank you!" Replied Opal. She excused herself for a moment to go and feed the rabbit that her mother had saved. She had named him George, and the creature was warming up to her nicely. George looked up when he heard the loud laughter of children. He sniffed the air frantically as Opal climbed into his pen, carrot in tow. "How are you today George?" She asked, allowing her new pet to take a nibble of the vegetable. When he reached the green shoot on the end, Opal dropped the rest for him and began to stroke his soft grey fur. A big smile graced her lips. It was going to be a great birthday.

"Happy Birthday Opal!" The childs proud family proclaimed in unison. Opal smiled as she looked around at her father, mother, grandmother, and uncle. Her many friends and Archer were also present.

"Thank you everyone! This is going to be the best birthday." Opal cheered as her mother cut her a generous portion of the still warm blueberry pie, her favorite. Within seconds, her cherubic cheeks were coated in purple sticky stains. Victor smiled as he handed her a white and purple box, wrapped in a matching purple ribbon.

"Here darling girl. This is from daddy." The child whipped the pie from her lips and enthusiastically tore the paper from the present. Her green eyes dazzled at the gift before her. It was a lovely bow and quiver, made of white wood. It wasn't a toy, like Victor had originally thought to get her, it was a real weapon. Opal's hands graced the soft wood and felt each of the arrows' blue feathered tips. She embraced her father.

"Oh daddy! It's wonderful! Thank you so much." Victor embraced her back. It brought him even more joy to know that she approved of his gift. Cammilia smiled, touching Victors arm.

"Darling, may I talk to you alone for a moment?" The young man nodded and put Opal back down on the grass. He followed his wife behind their cottage. There, Cammilia's expression turned serious.

"What is it dear?"

"You got her a real bow? Victor, she could hurt herself or someone in the village with that." The concerned mother reasoned.

"Not if I teach her how to be responsible and use it correctly. Cammilia, I'm only going to let her use it when I'm with her. I said that I would begin teaching her to protect the village this year, and I never go back on my word. Heros honor you know."

"I understand. Just make sure she understands that it's not a toy."

"Opal's a smart and very obedient child. She'll understand. Besides, she's growing up quickly. Before we know it she'll be a teenager, and then she'll be helping me protect the village. It's time for her to begin her training." Cammilia sighed, still unsure about her daughter having such a dangerous tool of her husband's trade, but she also knew just how badly Opal wanted to be like him.

"Alright Victor. I'm trusting you with her safety."

"You can count on me sweet Cammilia."


	12. Chapter 12

The air was growing colder, but the warm winds of summer still remained in the small farming community. Victor was glad that he now had the gentle breeze accompanying him on his hunts, as they helped keep him cool. He sat in the long dewy grass with his daughter. Opal was standing beside him, and Victor was teaching her how to fire her new weapon. He gently adjusted her arms to the appropriate position for firing her arrows.

"Here. Keep this hand on the bows base, and hold your arrow between those two fingers like so." He instructed. Opal did as she was told, but as she released, the arrow flopped to the ground. The little girl exclaimed in frustration.

"I can't do it daddy. I'll never get it right." Victor smiled at her, and rose to his feet.

"Here." He spoke, withdrawing his own bow and arrow from his leather quiver. "Maybe I should demonstrate for you." Victor wrapped a firm hand around the middle of his master longbow, and took up the arrow between his index and middle fingers. With his thumb he grabbed and placed the arrow against the cord. Holding the arrow and cord in place with his thumb, he pulled the string taut, aimed at a scarecrow twenty feet away, and released. The arrow made a swishing sound as it flew through the air, and planted itself into the dummy's chest. Opal gawked in awe at his perfect shot.

"Wow!" She marveled. Victor smiled at her remark as he sheathed his weapon.

"Now try again dear." Opal nodded and tried to mimic what her father had just shown her. This time the arrow found its mark. Opal cheered.

"I did it!"

"Very good Opal! You'll be a bounty hunter before you know it." Her proud father praised. Opal sheathed her own bow and hugged him.

"Thank you for teaching me daddy."

"Thank you for wanting to learn."

Days passed without incident. Farmers went on with their daily chores, the children played and grew, and Victor continued his routine of training his daughter, and keeping his beloved village safe from harm. It was a lazy Saturday of the next week. The weather was finally cool, and the first of the autumn leaves were beginning their decent into the grip of the ocean that wrapped around Oakvale. Victor was just returning from his jaunt out into Darkwood, and he had a skip in his stride. It had been an easy day, with only a few hobbes to slay, a rarity indeed. But regardless, he was finished, and he was looking forward to spending the remainder of the day with his daughter and loving wife. At last he could finally see his small dwelling coming into view, the english ivy creeping up the sides, Cammilia's lush garden on the left, and the tall oak tree that gave the front yard shade in the summer months. As he opened the door, Cammilia looked up from the meal she was preparing, a delicious feast of carrot stew and homemade bread.

"Victor, you're home!" She stopped what she was doing and threw her arms around his body. Victor hugged her back and set his quiver in the corner. "I wasn't expecting to see you until later this eve. I haven't even finished lunch yet." She added.

"That's fine. I'm not even hungry, I'm just happy to be back." He sat down at the kitchen table with a contented sigh. "Nothing but hobbes to deal with today."

"Those things are small, but they can still be dangerous. I'm glad you took care of them." Cammilia joined him.

"Where is Opal?"

"She's still at the schoolhouse. Sometimes she stays there and plays with her friends until you come back. She gets terribly bored when she's with me." The mother chuckled.

"Pretty soon, she'll be coming along with me to Darkwood every weekend. After she graduates school, who knows? Maybe she'll become a full-time bounty hunter like her old man." Victor commented, still gushing with pride over the progress his little daughter had been making. In just a few short months, Opal had become almost a perfect shot. She had the makings of a great archer, and Victor knew it. "Speaking of archery, where is the clever mutt?" The young man looked around for his dog. He noticed him sleeping by the fireplace, and although it wasn't cold, the shepard looked as though he hadn't moved all morning.

"Victor. He's gotten worse I'm afraid. Poor thing just didn't even have it in him to get up today." Cammilia remarked sadly, feeling for her husband. Victor rose from his chair and approached the dog. Archer raised his ears at the sound of his masters boots trodding over in his direction. With every ounce of strength the old beast still clung to, Archer stood and limped over to Victor.

"Hey boy. How are you feeling today?" The dog whined as Victor stroked his greying black pelt. A look of severe heartache erupted into the young mans eyes. He had had Archer ever since he was a pup. A farmer had come through Oakvale that spring, selling the offspring of his prized sheepdog. Victor had still been a young lad at the time, merely 12. He had no gold, nor a doting parent who would buy the pup for him. But after seeing the jet black pup, the boy was determined to have him. The kindly farmer had made the boy a deal. He told Victor that if he worked for a week out in his fields, that the boy could have the pup. He graciously accepted, and worked hard. After the week had ended, the farmer held true to his word, and from that day on, Archer and Victor had been inseparable. Until now. Now, his friend had reached the end of his long and carefree life, and it was time to say goodbye. Too weak to remain standing, the old dog collapsed into his owners lap, and his breathing grew shallow.

"Archer, Archer no, don't leave me boy!" Victor yelled through thick tears as his companions deep brown eyes looked at him for the last time. Cammilia came to Victors aid, wrapping her arm around him.

"Nothing lives forever Victor. Eventually, we all have to die. It's the natural order of things."

"Why didn't you tell me that he was dying Cammilia!?" Victor whirled around, enraged with her.

"Victor...I-I didn't want to hurt you. I thought that it would be for the best if he just passed peacefully."

"Does this look like it was for the best?!"

"Victor, please, lets not argue." His loving bride started to kiss him, but he pushed her away and looked back down at the dog. Victor stood. It was too much to see his old friend like that, and the young man decided to go out and get some fresh air.

"I'm going out. Bury him before Opal sees."

"Victor wait. Can't we at least talk about this?" Cammilia pleaded. The door slammed behind him, and the young man's eyes began to water. _Archer. Why did you die? You were always been such a good boy, why must fate be so cruel? If only there had have been a way to save you. _His thoughts and tears were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind him Victor turned around at see his older brother approaching.

"Why hello there, is the man of the house available?" Henry scoffed sourly. "Oh that's right, I forgot that there is no man living here. My mistake."

"What do you want Henery. Now isn't exactly the best time. Archer just passed away."

"Well then it seems like the best time then. Guess who just got in on a very lucrative partnership?"

"I have no idea." Victor replied sarcastically.

"If you applied more of that sharp wit to making money instead of comebacks then maybe you would be successful too. The owner of Orchard Farm finally caved. Thanks to my weekly treks and trading out that way, he agreed to let me and Farmer Ben in on two-thirds of the profits. You are looking at one of the three most powerful farmers in Albion." Henery boasted.

"I'm very happy for you. How is mother doing?" Victor asked, trying to change the subject. The two siblings mother had fallen very ill over the last seven years, and she was now bedridden and close to death.

"She's looking forward to the annual harvest festival." Henery replied. "She also told me that she's glad you don't visit anymore. Said you only made her sicker."

"Glad the old woman hasn't changed." Victor added dryly.

"Well, I just had to come and give you and your pathetic family a rare glimpse of success. But now if you'll excuse me, I need to go. There are two very attractive women waiting in my bed for me." The older brother turned and left. Victor leaned against his cottage. _What a day. _He groaned.

The days until the harvest festival grew closer together. The air was growing colder, and the small village of Oakvale had become busier since Henery's partnership had taken effect. It was all that Victor could do to keep from hearing about his suddenly successful older sibling as he made his way through town everyday. It seemed that everyone had forgotten all that the brave bounty hunter had done for them. Everyone was obsessed with his brother now, even at his cottage. Cammilia talked about him often, and the couple had been arguing more because of it. Victor had a short fuse, and nothing set him off like talk of Henery. When he became riled, he tended to act rashly, and did things he often regretted. On this particular day, however he would make a mistake that would haunt him forever.

"I don't get it? He has the proposal and he'll be very successful. Why won't you go help your brother with the farm Victor?" Cammilia asked.

"Because the farm can wait Cammilia. The safety of the village is my only priority. Bandits and balverines. They attacked twice last week and who knows when they'll be back?"

"Henery told me that the guards and you killed all of them. What's the real reason you won't consider helping him? Did Henery say something to you?"

"No. Its just there are always more, and money doesn't count for anything if your dead!" Victor yelled, loosing his patience. Camillia turned and put a loving hand on her distressed husbands shoulder..

"No one mentioned money Victor. Henery refused your help, and then bragged about his wealth didn't he?"

"What does it matter? I don't need him, mother or their help Cammilia. I promised you that you could count on me."

"Victor, I do count on you. You don't need to be anything other than who you are right now dearest."

"You know what? I'm going to dig up that book. Then I'll show everyone what I'm capable of!" Victor stated, ignoring her.

"Victor, you don't need it. You'll make a name for yourself someday, I'm sure of it. Besides, you promised me that you would never use that thing again."

"I know what I said Cammilia. But listen, there is this other spell. It can make me immune to sickness and death. If I can't die to monsters or bandits, imagine what that would mean. I would be unstoppable, a real hero at last!"

"You're afraid of dying still, aren't you?" Even though her words were true, Victor became aggressive at them.

"Did you ever think that maybe I fear death because if I was dead, then no one would be there to take care of you?"

"Calm down dear. Your making a scene." Victor looked at her.

"Why Cammilia? I love you so very much. Why don't you belive in me?" Cammilia stepped over towards Victor and sighed.

"Victor. You are the only one I believe in. I just think that your taking this the wrong way. Can't we just go get Opal and head for the feast? Fighting is so awful." Cammilia pleaded. Victor looked away from her.

"You can't do this forever Cammilia."

"Do what?" Victor glared at his wife.

"I know that I disappoint you. Everyone knows what a failure I am."

"Victor..." Cammilia began. But Victor had already headed out the front door. His attention immediately went across the road, to the open meadow. The book. It had been years since he had buried it there, respecting Cammilia's wishes to never use it again. But it was there, and no amount of promise could make him forget what incredible power that ancient tome possessed. Victor still remembered the day that he had returned to Oakvale, empty-handed following a failed battle with the Nocturnal Kraken. How he had desperately needed gold to marry Cammilia, and buy the couple a new house. How that book had supplied him with so much gold, just by reading that small spell. A dark thought began to well up inside his head._ She doesn't even care about you. Why should you bother doing something for her? _Victor shook the thought from his head, violently. He was shocked by the thoughts he was having. It wasn't like him to be so selfish.

"Great Avo what are you thinking?! You're a hero, you don't break promises, especially to your wife!" He yelled aloud. Some mockingbirds in a nearby tree faced him and flew away at the harsh sound. _I need to calm down. I know! I'll take a walk to clear my head._ Past the covered bridge and into the village square he walked. The villagers were out harvesting their crops for the evenings feast, and children were running around excitedly by the nearby well, their laughter and songs filled the air with a sweet cheer.

"Victor!" A young woman's voice cried out. Victor looked to his right and saw Becky. She had grown up from the young child that had followed him around town and looked up to him. She was now a young woman.

"Hello Becky, how are you on this fine day?"

"Oh Victor did you hear? David proposed! I'm going to be married!"

"That's wonderful Becky. You'll make a wonderful wife, I just know it." Becky blushed at the compliment.

"Hey Victor? Have you heard? You're brother finally had an offer from Orchard Farm. He's gonna be rich!" Victor's eyes narrowed. Henery had been trying for years to secure his name into the farm, and now he had. Victor, of course, had been the first to hear about it. Henery had never missed an oppurtunity to gloat about his success to his younger sibling.

"Yes. I heard."

"Rumor has it, that he's going to be the guest of honor at Farmer Ben's harvest feast this year." The young woman continued. Victor felt his blood boil. Guest of honor had always been reserved for him. He was the village hero, and he was Oakvale's protector. What had Henery ever done to take that away from him?!

"Well that's just a rumor Becky. After all, I'm sure that Farmer Ben wouldn't turn his back on all that I have done for this village." Victor struggled to keep his tone level.

"Yes, but I heard it from the farmer's wife, and you can't get much more accurate than that." Victor turned away, wanting to change the subject.

"I have to go now Becky. It was lovely talking with you."

"Ok, bye Victor." Becky replied, confused. Victor clenched his fists tightly. Although his brother had always had the upper hand, it had never bothered him very much...until now. Mother had always liked him better, and that was fine, seeing as the materialistic cow was into making money by any means necessary. Henery flaunted his success and knocked Victors more noble profession relentlessly, but it had never stopped the young bounty hunter from continuing his work. But now Henery was taking his place, his spot as guest of honor at the harvest feast. A spot reserved for the most valuable member of the Oakvale community, the person that the village would fail without. For ten years that had been Victors honor, and now his greedy older brother had taken it from him.

The young man pounded loudly onto the cabin of his mother and brother. Henery opened the door with a cold grin.

"Why hello Victor. I take it you heard?"

"What is the meaning of this Henery? You know that the guest of honor has always been my position!"

"Until the better man came along that is. What can I say? I guess that Farmer Ben finally came to his senses."

"What the hells that supposed to mean Henery?! Everyday, I protect this village with my very life. All that you have ever done is trade with Orchard Farm in a desperate attempt to kiss up to the farmer there!"

"It's because of all that kissing up that I have made Oakvale the richest and most powerful farming community in Albion. Now that Farmer Jorden, Farmer Ben, and I are partners, we alone control the harvests nationwide. Whenever anyone buys produce, meat, or cotton from a stall, be it in Bowerstone or Bloodstone, we three shall get all the profits and split them. Do you know what that means Victor? It means that Oakvale's economy will skyrocket. I've just put this sleepy burg on the map, that, little brother, is why Farmer Ben chose me for the position of guest of honor." Victor lunged at him, but his older brother merely shoved him aside. Victor hit the dirt road with a thud.

"I have saved countless people, killed countless monsters that would have happily spilt your blood, and this is the respect you have to show me?!"

"You don't deserve respect Victor, and you never will. See you at the harvest festival" The older brother laughed before slamming the door. Victor's green eyes began to gleam wickedly.

"Yes, indeed you shall, brother..."


	13. Chapter 13

Shovel in hand, Victor walked into the open field of the meadow. The sun was still high in the sky, plenty of time to find the buried silver box he sought. A deep feeling of guilt was welling up inside of him. He hadn't ever wanted to lie to Cammila, he would rather die than cause her shame or sadness. But Henry had to be taught a lesson. For the last 26 years, his materialistic, sadistic brother had made the young man's life a misery. But his older sibling had gone too far this time. Taking Victor's place, nay, his right as the guest of honor at the harvest feast. _Henery has never even seen a balverine up close, he would probably scream and pale in terror if he was forced to do battle with one. Foolish old coot, why would Farmer Ben give him my spot?! Just for becoming a successful farmer? I still don't understand why that's anywhere near as important as my job. Let alone more so. _CLANG! Victor's shovel found something hard upon his next scoop of earth. The young man got to his knees and pawed his way through the rest of the dirt and gravel, until the sun glimmered against the tip of the abandoned silver case. Shakily, Victor retrieved the box from its muddy prison, and opened it. The ancient tome was still there, and just as he had left it eight years earlier.

"Alright. Now to find that page." He murmured, thumbing through the book. He knew exactly what spell he sought. It was the one that he had first read when he had found the book in the coastal cavern. Victor shuddered as the disturbing visage of Xaiver crept into view. To this day, Victor still had no clue as to how Xaiver could have survived the group of guards who had been sent to arrest him, nor how he had come to use magic so proficiently. As his hand flipped pages, Victor pulled back and winced at the sudden paper cut along his index finger. As the blood left his hand, it trickled across the exposed page, and edged its way down. Victor looked as his blood decorated the tome in a sick red drizzle. It was then that he realized that he had found the spell, however inadvertently it had been. The young man cleared his throat, and began to recite the incantation upon the bloodied page.

"The softness of a baby's skin, in time shall fade away. The blueness of a maidens eyes, will one day turn to grey. Even the bravest warrior can be smited by his foe. But if you utter these few words, such fate thou never know." The book fell away from his trembling hands to the unearthed soil at his feet. Victor gasped as the meadow began to glow an eerie black. The color escaped from the once lovely hillside. Victor remained frozen as every color, from the yellow buttercups, to the deep brown of an old oak tree dissipated into greys, whites and blacks. Thick black walls began to rise out of the ground, crushing trees and brush in their wake. As the walls grew higher and more intimidating, Victor took a frightened step back, and reached for his quiver.

"Whats going on?" He managed, pulling free an arrow, although he was unsure what to aim at. The black walls seemed to be harmless. Finally, they came to a halt, 80 feet off the ground, coming to sharp, candlelit spires at the top. Victor took another step away._ Perhaps I read the wrong spell. What could such a ominous dwelling have to do with immunity from sickness and death? _He was about to receive his answer. Three black shades appeared before him as his book dissolved into the ground. Victor aimed his bow at the largest entity, and fired. But his arrow careened through the spirit, lodging itself in the oak trees thick trunk instead.

"W-what do you three creatures want with me?" Victor stammered. The ghosts spoke in deep ancient voices, full of authority and malice.

"Who dares to summon the three demons of the Shadow Court?" Asked the largest of the three ghouls.

"I did, but it was a mistake. I was trying to get immunity for sickness and death." Victor explained. The three ghosts looked at each other, and their fiery red eyes narrowed.

"You have read the incantation correctly, mortal. For we can indeed give you such immunity."

"Wonderful!"

"But...it shall come at a high price." The demon continued to address Victor.

"What price is this?"

"What can you give us mortal?" Victor thought about it. He was a poor man, with no land, nor crops. He sighed. It was looking more and more like the ghostly monsters would not be able to help him.

"I am but a poor bounty hunter. I have only my family and my love of this village. I am sorry, there is nothing that I can offer you." The ghosts looked at one another again. Victor sheathed his bow and began to walk back towards the center of the village. The harvest feast would be starting soon._ Oh well, I might as well get Henery's gloating over with. _He groaned, filled with bitter disappointment.

"Wait!" Called the lead demon. "We will be able to grant you your request." Victor whirled around, locking eyes with the entity. He averted his gaze quickly however. For something in the undead fires of his eyes deeply bothered him. The ghosts began to circle Victor, chanting something in an unknown tongue. When they were finished, Victor looked around him at the ghosts. "It is done. You are now immune to time and death." Before he could answer, the three spirits disappeared back into the large black castle, and color returned to the meadow before him. Victor looked himself over. He appeared to be very much the same. He wondered what exactly the three ghouls had done that would grant him immunity. _Maybe it was all just a dream._ He reasoned. Shaking his head, Victor headed towards Farmer Ben's cabin for the harvest feast.

Victor reached the old farmhouse just as the last shards of sunlight had kissed the tip of the sea in the distance. As he entered the cabin, he was greeted by the cheerful sounds of laughter and warm conversation. As the young man made his way around the throngs of villagers who had turned up for the annual banquet, Farmer Ben himself greeted him.

"Ah Victor! So glad that you could make it. I heard a nasty rumor that you weren't coming due to a spat with the misses." The fat farmer chuckled, patting Victor on the shoulder.

"No, I would never miss the harvest feast Ben, you know that." Victor replied, trying not to be rude. He was appalled at how quickly gossip spread in Oakvale. He should be able to have an argument with Cammilia without the entire village knowing about it. He wasn't entirely happy with Farmer Ben either. It was ludicrous that he had given Victor's title and seat of honor to a greedy sod like Henery. "I have to go and find my wife and daugher, but it was nice to see you Ben."

"Victor. About the position as guest of honor. I'm sorry son." The farmer replied empathetically. Victor feigned a smile and nodded before descending into the large crowd. He found Cammilia standing by a keg of ale, having a drink and talking with one of her friends. The other woman pointed at Victor as she noticed him coming. She said something to Cammilia, and the blonde woman looked over at her husband, a large smile finding her smooth lips. She placed her ale upon one of the many tables set up in the cabin and ran to embrace him. Victor held her, taking in her sweet aroma.

"Victor, there you are! I was worried that you were upset."

"I got over it love. You were right, fighting is awful." He smiled, kissing her. Cammilia noticed the odd look on his face, the excitement and pride in his green eyes.

"Are you alright? I haven't seen you this elated since I told you that I was pregnant with Opal."

"I just had time to clear my head dear. Plus the apple pie you make is delicious." Victor added, scanning the many pies and cakes that decorated the back most table. Victor could easily pick out his wifes pie from the rest. Hers had the crunchiest crumble topping, the sweetest apples, and the flakiest texture. A dessert that never ceased to tingle his taste buds and fill his heart with delight. Cammilia laughed.

"I would be more than happy to get you a slice."

"That would be lovely dearest." Victor replied. Cammila smiled at him as she turned and headed for the dessert table. Victor watched her walk, the way her light blue dress framed her beautiful figure perfectly. The way her long wavy blonde hair bounced playfully with every step she took.

"My darling Cammilia, how long has it been?" He asked when she returned with a hearty slice of her pie.

"Since what Victor?" He pulled her near, causing her to drop the plate. As it hit the dirt floor with a loud shatter, Victor dove his tongue deep into her awaiting mouth. Her blue eyes softened to his passion, and he in turn melted into her.

"Since I told you how very beautiful you are my dear." Cammila pulled away and blushed.

"Oh Victor, such a tease." She nudged him gently. Victor laughed along with her antics.

"Have you seen Opal?" He asked. Cammilia pointed over to the corner of the room, where Opal and five other children were playing.

"Opal! Come here honey, your fathers here!" Cammila whistled for the youth. Opal dropped her doll and ran over to her father.

"Daddy! What took you? I was worried that you weren't gonna come." The little girl spoke as Victor sat. She laughed as he pulled her up onto his lap.

"I would never miss celebrating anything with you."

"Even if you won't be the guest of honor anymore?"

"None of that matters to me anymore." Cammilia looked at her husband inquisitively.

"Doesn't matter Victor? How come?"

"I have much more important things in my life. No sence letting Henery rile me over such a trivial thing as a title." Victor scoffed, still looking at his daughter.

"I'm very proud of you then darling. I knew that one day you would realize that its foolish to continue this sibling rivalry with Henery." She patted his back. The small family sat, enjoying the good food as well as each others company.

"So Daddy, where did you go?" Opal asked through a bite of her dinner.

"Opal! It's rude to talk with your mouth full!" Cammilia scolded. Victor swallowed the last of his pie.

"Actually, I had some last-minute business to attend to." He replied.

"Doing what?" Cammilia asked. Victor felt his palms begin to persperate. The book. How was he going to tell her that he had broken his promise? A dark thought again graced his mind. _Does she even have to know? She would never find out anyway. _Victor shook his head and directed his attention back to his concerned wife. It seemed like those selfish wicked thoughts were finding his subconscious more often these days. "Well Victor? What were you doing dear?" Cammilia pressed him.

"Um...I was-" The sound of Farmer Ben ringing his cow bell saved Victor from the awkward moment. Everyone stood and faced the center of the barn, where Farmer Ben and Henery stood.

"Excuse me everyone. Our guest of honor has an announcement to make." The farmer motioned towards Henery, who took the stand.

"People of Oakvale. This has been a very profitable year for...most of us." His older brother sent Victor a mocking glare. "And to celebrate our success as a village, I would like to propose a toast to farmers Ben, Jordan, and of course, myself." Victor scoffed at his conceit. _Greedy moron. Everyone knows that you can't toast yourself. _All the villagers in the barn re-filled their glasses and raised them, all except Victor. Cammilia looked at him as he sulked and kicked a pebble at his boots.

"Victor. Come on, toast them."

"No Cammilia."

"Victor I know that you hate your brother, but surely Farmer Ben and Farmer Jordan deserve respect."

"Respect?! They're poor dirt farmers Cammilia. Greedy ones at that. Did either Ben, Jordan or Henery ever risk their lives for the greater good of this village?" His voice was growing loud, and heads were beginning to turn and look at the shouting young man.

"Victor. Please dear, just raise your glass. You're making a scene." Cammilia whispered, her pale face flushed with embarrassment.

"No!" Victor roared. He pushed his way through the crowd and approached Henery.

"Still as sore a looser as always eh Victor?" Victor wasted no time in punching his boastful brother. Henery toppled off the podium, hitting the dirt floor hard. Victor faced the aghast group of villagers, and continued to speak.

"Is this your idea of gratitude? I protected you, your wives, your children. For ten years now I have spilt my blood, risked my life, all for you. And now you all act as if my sacrifices meant nothing to you! Have you any idea just how quickly you would have died if not for my protection?!" He roared. As he faced the crowd, loud rumbles boomed overhead. A powerful wind was whipping around the barn, causing the wood to creak. CRACK! A woman screamed as one of the barn windows shattered into tiny shards. A cold breeze entered the barn, blowing out every candle in the vicinity.

"It is an omen." Said one man.

"We should have never appointed Henery as our guest of honor." Added another.

"Dear Avo, have we angered you?" Asked the village priest. Even Victor was growing concerned. The weather had been perfect all day, only for a rather unexpected storm to erupt now. It didn't make any sence. Suddenly, six red eyes appeared in the doorway of the farm-house. Victor felt a chill run through him as the three dark deamons from earlier entered the barn. Something was very wrong.


	14. Chapter 14

As the darkened barn filled with the cries of the townspeople, Cammilia and Opal rushed to Victor's side.

"Victor whats happening?" Cammilia asked, clasping Opal's hand tightly. Victor stood close to his wife and child, protecting them from the otherworldly denziens.

"I'm not quite certain." He replied, not understanding what his foolish decision was about to cause. The three blackened entities reached the center of the barn. The larger of the trio raised its large hand, and extended a long claw. He dove it into the gravel of the dirt floor, and drew a large circle. The entity growled and screeched in an animal like language. Within the circle, the demon drew a disturbing coiling serpent. As he finished his incantation, the villagers cried and yelled in terror as the serpent began to glow dark red. It lashed across the floor like a stranded trout, before gaining its balance and momentioum. The wild beast lashed across the large room, several villagers dashed out the farmhouse door, eager to escape their once peaceful village alive. The demons watched as they fled.

"Foolish ones! There is no escape." They snarled. As they spoke, the crimson serpent came to a halt before Henery and Farmer Ben. A hideous scream erupted from the farmer as the serpent opened his maw. Several black creatures began to emerge from within the fanged maw of the beast. Their smokey, translucent black bodies and flaming red eyes matched that of the three dark ghouls on the other side of the barn. Victor gasped as he realized what he was looking at. These denziens of hell, they looked to be the very shadows of the monsters he had sworn to keep out of his village. Bandits, hobbes, and balverines. They moved silently around the farmhouse, closing in on the frightened villagers. Victor reached for his bow and fired an arrow at a shadow hobbe who was closing in on Becky, the sweet little girl, now a lovely woman, who had looked up to him and followed him around with pride and awe. The arrow whooshed through the stale air, and hit its mark. Victor yelled in disbelief as the arrow passed through the hobbe and instead hit Becky in the chest. The young woman lurched once, before her body slid down the wall and into the awaiting hobbes grasp. _I have never missed before...How could I...Becky no! _He looked around the room, stark terror in his green eyes. He saw everyone he loved, everyone he cared about, now helplessly cornered by beasts of smoke and shadow. There was nothing that he could do to protect them now. He whirled around to see Cammilia and Opal. He couldn't save Oakvale, but perhaps he could save his family! Victor rushed to his frantic bride, and grabbed her hand.

"Victor! What is going on? What are those things?!"

"Come on!" He yelled, denying her an explanation. She nodded, and clasped her other hand over Opals.

"Opal sweetheart, we have to go now." Opal pulled away, shaking her head.

"Mindi! I left Mindi over there! I can't leave without her!"

"Opal!" Victor roared as his brave daughter darted off into the crowd of beasts and villagers. The little girl spotted her ragdoll and squatted down to pick it up. Through a fresh rush of wind and smoke, she heard her parents calling for her.

"I'm coming!" She yelled back, Mindi in tow. From out of the earth, one of the shadow demons rose to greet her. Opal yiped and tripped as she backed away from the frightening shade. "Daddy! Daddy help me!" She cried, as the demon picked her up and carried her away. Victor lunged forward, still holding Cammilia's trembling hand.

"My daughter! Give me back my little Opal damn you!" The next moment would forever haunt Victor. The ghost stopped before him, Opal still in his grasp.

"Let your wish be granted, mortal one!" The demon growled. With his words, the monsters advanced on the cornered villagers. Horrid shrieks filled the stormy sky as they were torn asunder and devoured. Flesh ripped, bodies tore, and the scent of fresh blood choked the air. Victor and Cammilia stood paralyzed by what was taking place. Everyone they knew, from Farmer Ben, to Henery and Victor's mother. They were all slaughtered before him, like pigs. Ironically, like the animals he had always thought of them as. The young man raised his head up to the ghost who still held his daughter. The entities body twirled thick waves of black smoke as he watched the last of the villagers die.

"Why are you doing this?! This isn't what I asked for!" He demanded.

"Immunity from the disease of time and death. That is what you requested. We judges told you that the price would be great indeed."

"Correct, and I told you that I had no such currency to pay for my wish. Why do you think I walked away!?"

"You are wrong Hero of Skill. You have something even more valuable than gold."

"I do not understand." Victor replied, getting worried by the demons words.

"Come. Look and I shall make all clear." The shade leaned forward, and its red eyes flew open. Victor struggled to stare courageously into them with his own. His own pupils began to dilate as grainy images filled the ancient eyes of the monster. He saw himself and Cammilia, walking down by the beach, laughter filling their mouths as well as their hearts. He saw his sweltering wife summon all of her strength and birth their daughter, how tiny and warm she felt in his proud arms. Victor could still hear himself telling his baby girl that he would always protect her. The demons eyes reverted back to red flames, and the images burned away with them.

"The things you loved most in the life that didn't make you happy." Victor fell to his knees. He now realized all to late that they had taken his mention of his family and village horribly wrong. When he had told them that he was poor and all he had was his love for his family and village, they assumed that he wanted to trade them for his immunity. As wrong as they were, there was now nothing he could do about it. But he had to try! Victor lunged at the demon, reaching out for Opal.

"Daddy! Please, save me!" She cried. Victor grabbed frantically at the shadowy body of the entity, and the fingers of the young man and that of his devoted daughter nearly touched, before the beast ripped her away, laughing madly.

"Foolish one. Your child is our property now. She shall die like all the rest!"

"NO!" Victor screamed, once again reaching for Opal. But the ghoul extended his hand, swiping at the desperate young man.

"Victor!" Cammilia cried as she watched her husband hit the ground with a painful thud. Victor shakily pulled himself to his feet. His entire body felt as if it were on fire. An especially painful searing was coming from his lower back. Cammilia came to his aid and helped him to his feet. "Victor, are you alright?"

"I'm fine darling." He lied. He had to. Now was no time for his wifes sympathy. He had to save their daughter. The shadow was still glowering down at him, and the young man could have sworn that for just a moment, a sick smile graced across his evil face.

"Daddy! Help me!" Opal cried again. The demon tightened his grip around the child, causing her to wail. She pleaded for her father, one last time.

"Dad-" Her tiny cries were drowned out by a horrid scream. A scream that no child should ever make. Victor watched helplessly, as the demon tore Opal's sweet, tender flesh from her body.

"Opal!" He joined in on her screams, as the shade progressed further with his torture. The skinned child was then torn apart. He body silenced as thick goop and hard bone erupted from the monsters palm. The demon let the remaining shards that had once been Victors daughter slide out of his hand, and to the floor below. Cammilia fell frozen, unable to keep her balance after witnessing her childs brutal murder. Tears welled up and streamed down her pale cheeks. As her blue eyes closed in surrender, Victor pulled her to her feet.

"Cammilia, we need to leave Oakvale right now!" He commanded. Cammilia took one last look at the butchered remains of the young couples offspring, before allowing Victor to lead her away.

The couple ran until they reached the lookout post at the edge of the sea. Victor kicked the door open and motioned for Cammilia to enter first, all the while keeping an eye out for the shadow beasts and the three demons. Once he was positive that they had not been followed, Victor closed the wooden door and locked it. Once they had reached the top of the outpost, Cammilia collapsed into a distraught pile on the floorboards.

"What is going on Victor? Why were you unable to kill those things?!" Cammilia demanded. Opal's blood still decorated her dress. Tear stains were quickly replaced by a fresh stream of sadness. Victor kept watch out over the village, now full of screams and fire.

"I don't understand whats happening love." He was still unable to tell her the truth. The truth that Opal and everyone else in Oakvale was dead because of him. The ocean surged and splashed against the shore, in tune to the loud thunderclaps overhead. Cammila huddled closer to Victor, although he wanted to remain standing to keep an eye on the monsters below, he felt her deep need for him. The young man reluctantly sat with her, and held her body as she shook.

"Opal...of all the children in the world, why our little Opal?" She wept.

"Cammilia, everyone down there is dying. Not just our daughter."

"I don't care about everyone else! I just want my baby back!" She screeched. Victor understood how awful she felt. For he was feeling the same way.

"Cammilia. I'm sorry." He managed. The young woman cried into his chest as he gently rubbed her back. Suddenly, she perked up. Something from outside had caught her attention.

"Victor...What is that?" Cammilia looked up towards the window. Victor listened intently. He could hear a strange shrieking coming from outside. At first he was certain that it was more cries from the doomed residents below. But as he continued to strain to hear, he realized that it was something else. Victor looked out the tower window. His green eyes would never forget the surreal sight of eerieness that beheld him. Off the cost of Oakvale, figures were moving in and out of the waves, humanesque bodies, transparent and pale white in color. White as death, they moved silently towards the shore, wave upon wave of rough sea brought them closer. Thousands of them, were now reaching land and making their way across the village. Banshees. Their bloodcurdling screams froze his blood and caused his hair to stand on end.

"Victor? What is it?" Cammilia asked. Slowly, he turned to her.

"Cammilia. We need to get out of Oakvale right now." As he finished his statement, the roof of the tower tore off, and the howling wind chilled both Victor and Cammilia. The three shadow beings loomed over the room where the couple remained huddled, their black bodies blotting out the stormy sky.

"Cammilia Ashfield. You must come with us."

"Victor! Help me!" His wife grabbed him tightly. Victor drew his bow, although some part of him knew that it would be futile.

"Stay away from her!" He demanded through the stale stench of the monsters. He could still smell Opal's blood on the largest ones cloak. The ghosts did not hesitate. With a horrible scream, they broke away from the tower. The powerful storm poured in, and began to take the young woman with it. Victor grabbed his wife by her arm as the wind grabbed her up.

"Victor!" She cried. Victor winced as he felt his arm dislocate.

"Just hold on Cammilia! I promise that I shall never let you go!"

"Is that so?" The demons voice called. Victor managed to look up to meet the entities gaze. "You traded their lives, for your own."

"Victor? What is that monster talking about?!" Victor fought to clear his head, whilst still holding onto Cammilia.

"I-I broke my promise to you Cammilia. I dug up the book and summoned those creatures out of it." Cammilia's blue eyes widened and became as piercing as ice.

"You...what?!" She whispered.

"I didn't know that they would do this darling! I only wanted to make a name for myself...I love you!" Cammilia remained locked within the green eyes of her husband. The man who she loved, the man that had betrayed her and caused their daughter's slaughter. Slowly, she released her grasp on Victor's arm. "Cammilia! What are you doing?!" The young man asked horrified.

"For twenty years I have loved you Victor. No matter what the others said. Xaiver, Henery. None of that mattered. Because I trusted you, and what you stood for." Her arm was slipping away from his strong grip. "But I cannot trust you anymore."

"Cammilia! I'm sorry, what I did was wrong but belive me when I say that I would never willingly allow monsters to destroy Oakvale or my people. My family." He felt a tear leave his eye at the memories he had seen in the demons eye.

"You're no longer that man Victor. Now that you have such a power, I doubt that you shall ever be my beloved Victor again. Farewell."

"Cammilia, what are you saying?! CAMMILIA!" Victor roared as she parted from his grasp and allowed herself to be swept into the three awaiting shadows. The largest one grabbed her body.

"Bring forth the malestrom." It demanded from his fellows. The beast on his left withdrew a menacing blade from its body. Victor watched on. In the entirety of his existence, he had never felt so helpless. The demon growled and spoke in a deep gutteral voice as it rose Cammilia up to the skies. "Through the blood of his most desired, most beloved, through this woman, let the final ritual commence." In a blaze of blue, Cammilia was thrust down upon the sinister blade. Her eyes widened in agony as her life came to an end. Victor yelled something at that moment, although through disbelief and pain he could not recall what it was. He fell to his knees, empty and alone. The storm overhead dissipated into an eerie fog, and the waves grew calm again. Pitifully, the broken young man looked up at the three demons. Again, the leader of the group came to rest before him. "It is finished...for now." The demon gurgled. Victor looked up at the fiery beacons in the ghosts eyes.

"What do you mean for now?" The shade once more drew the circle with the serpent in the middle. Then, he pointed an eerie black finger at the design.

"What are you trying to show me monster?"

"Every four years, this seal shall appear before you. When this happens, you must give the seal to a mortal human, and instruct them to return it to us."

"And if I don't?" Victor retorted. He had already unwittingly given his entire village and beloved family to the demons, and it enraged him that they still wanted more.

"If the day were to come that you deny us a sacrifice, we shall come for your soul." Victor rose to his feet.

"Take it now then beast! You have already taken everything from me! What else do I have to live for now?!"

"It doesn't work that way, boy."

"Well then in four years time, I shall simply wait for you to come for me then."

"Do that and you shall be ours forever. You will have no chance of ever seeing your wife or child again." Victor squeezed his eyes tightly closed. What had he done? Through his obliviousness and fear, he had inadvertently destroyed his life and trapped himself in the grasp of these demons. He reached for one of his arrows. He couldn't end his deal, but he could still end himself. Victor took a deep breath and then jammed his arrow in towards his chest madly. Utter shock filled his persona as the arrow was blocked from entering his body by a barrier of dark energy.

"W-what?! What the hells going on?!"

"Eternal life. That is essentially what you asked for."

"No! I asked for immunity from sickness and death, not this! What sick twisted abomination would take my families lives and then prevent me from taking mine?!" He lunged at the ghosts, who levitated up and laughed at him.

"What did you think that immunity to death was? As we spoke earlier, we have given you everything you asked for Victor." The young man stayed sprawled out along the floor of the tower. Tears flooded his green eyes and he remained motionless as the demons taunted him once more before fading into thick smoke. When they were gone, Victor pulled himself to where his darling lay slain. He shakily pulled her mangled body close to his.

"Cammilia...Oh Cammilia..."He sobbed into her chest. Her body was growing hard and cold, but Victor refused to let her go. He held her tightly, and rocked her lifeless body the rest of that sleepless night.


	15. Chapter 15

Victor finished filling in the two shallow graves before him. His house was still standing, although the roof had been torn apart. Cammilia's garden was charred and the old oak beside the home was dead. He was half insane from the guilt that now overwhelmed him. _You fool! You stupid, stupid fool! If only you had've kept your promise to her, then she would still be alive! _He punched himself repeatedly until the blood trickled from his face. After the events of the last night, Victor had found that while he could not kill himself, he was capable of beating himself, causing himself pain, and he had done so relentlessly. He was battered and bruised, but his soul had seen the most damage by far. His entire village lay in ruins. Everyone had perished. Every farm and every building had suffered immense damage. The Ashfield family windmill was nothing but a burned down shell, following the blaze. Cattle and horses lay strewn alongside the farmers whom had once taken care of them. Produce and barley fields were barren. Victor's shovel flattened the loose soil at his feet as he finished with the burial of his wife and his daughter. Although it was obvious that a burial had been performed there, he wanted to find a way to preserve the graves. From afar, Victor's gaze found what he was looking for. From the sides of the great covered bridge, rubble had scattered free from the surrounding rock. Two large boulders lay propped up against the broken fencing. Madly, the young man rushed over and grasped the hulking stone. With all his might and stamina, Victor began to push the large rock over to where his family lay buried. The weight of the boulder caused his back to pop and his arms to burn with pain. But the distraught man cared not. He had no reason to. His purpose and joy in life was gone. He needed to drown his sorrow, fill the agonizing fissure that tore through his beating heart with every thought. His beautiful wife and adorable daughter needed headstones for their final resting places, and nothing was going to stop him from giving his family the last possible thing he could now offer them. Gravel scraped off the boulder and pierced his sweltering palms, but Victor continued to grit his teeth and push. At long last, the first boulder was heaved into place over Opal's grave. Victor wiped the blood and sweat from his trembling palms, and trudged back towards the second rock. This one proved more of a challenge. It was larger than the others, but the young man could not be deterred. Once again, Victor started to push the boulder up the hill towards his home. Fatigue and grief were overwhelming him. In just one night, the unthinkable had happened. Victor had unknowingly summoned an ancient race of evil, and made a fatal mistake. Everything he loved and cared for had been ripped away from him. Consumed in dark thoughts, Victor lost his footing and skidded across the muddy mire. The boulder began to roll back down along with him, but the young man's quick reflexes stopped its decent. Sliding across the mud and grime, Victor covered the heavy stone with his chest. He winced as his ribs cracked from the sudden, powerful pressure. Even though it was indeed painful, it was still nothing compared to the pain that tore at his soul. Grabbing the boulder and steadying himself through grunts, Victor finished moving the makeshift headstone. He stood in silence as he stared at the two large rocks that covered the new graves. More pain and more guilt tore at him as Victor realized the macabre luxury of his families funeral. Out of everyone in Oakvale, only two would have a proper burial. All the rest, from infants to elders, would rot away like animals. Victor could already see several carrion birds circling the dreary skies, and several were hunched over the lifeless bodies that lay sprawled out across the drenched earth. It was all his fault. Slowly, he extended his trembling arm and placed Opal's ragdoll, Mindi, upon her rock.

"Your daddy is so sorry, my sweet girl..." He whispered as a tear graced his cheek. Those were the first words the young man had uttered in over twelve hours. Victor reached into his pocket and withdrew a golden locket. He had removed it from Cammilia's neck before burying her. He gingerly opened it, one last time. A small dried flower fell out and wafted to the ground. Victor picked it up and looked it over. When he realized exactly what he was looking at, another stream of tears filled his bloodshot eyes. For it was the rosebud that he had given to his childhood sweetheart, ten years earlier. _Cammilia...you kept it all this time? _He subconsciously touched his lips, remembering the couples first kiss. Victor closed his eyes and placed the dried flower back inside and closed the locket. He laid the charm against his brides headstone and tightened his fists. In an insane shriek, Victor fell to his knees, and ripped at his chestnut locks. _You fool! You breakable worm! You were supposed to protect her, how could you let this happen?! Coward! _As he broke apart, a ticklish nose nudged him. Victor looked up to see George, sitting beside him, looking curious. Though he had never cared much for the rabbit, Victor was elated to see another living being in the empty village.

"George! You're alive!" He exclaimed as he picked up the grey rodent. George was startled at first by the commotion, but quickly relaxed against the young mans palpitating chest.

"You're little girl is dead." He told the bunny. "I killed her George. I killed them all." The rabbit remained calm, passing no judgement upon the man who held him. Victor got up and carried the rabbit into the house. Most of the furniture was destroyed, but one thing did remain untouched: A large painting of Cammilia. Victor had paid every last gold he had to get an artist to commission it for her when she became pregnant with their daughter. Victor set George down, and carefully removed it from the wall above the dusty fireplace. _If I have to live forever, I'm going to keep a little piece of you with me through it all. My beautiful Cammilia, _He told himself, _I could search this world 300 years before I'd find a love more perfect than yours._ He looked down at George. The rabbit was sniffing the floor frantically for the little girl he loved so much. Victor sighed and picked up the painting. After covering it in a blanket from the bed, he left his dilapidated home. _I can never return to this place. I have to make sure of it. _He fished into his pocket and pulled out the silver key to his cottage. The cottage that had held so many beautiful times and memories. They were no longer his to remember, nor to have. He ripped a strip of cloth from his pauper shirt, and threaded it through the loop on the key. Then he turned to George, and bent down before his late daughters pet.

"George. I know that you cannot understand what I'm about to say, but I'm so empty and broken right now that I don't even care." He lifted the string with the key on it and tied it around the rabbits neck as a sort of collar. The bunny looked at Victor through curious black eyes. "Take that key and leave Oakvale. Go far away from here and never return. You and I are the only survivors of this otherworldly massacre. We need to start anew somewhere else. Now go!" He got up and stomped his foot, startling the animal, causing George to flee into the thick charred brush. The young man watched the rabbit scamper away and then sighed heavily. _Now its your turn. _Victor took one last look at Oakvale, and headed off towards Darkwood.

The foggy forest seemed even more disturbing than usual. No monsters were in sight. No traders or travelers were making their way towards Oakvale. It was as if the entirety of Albion already knew what had transpired there. What he had done. Victor trudged on through the wood, eager to make it to Greatwood before nightfall. He was heading to Bowerstone. He could have easily gone to Bloodstone, but Victor wanted to get as far away as possible from Oakvale. Plus, he considered himself an upright and noble individual, and only thugs and thieves frequented the seaside town. As he made his way out of the forest, Victor was thankful for the complete lack of monsters, for in his insanity and despair he had abandoned his quiver back up in the Oakvale watchtower. A dark smile graced his lips. _Ah, but even if worst came to worst, you would still have your life wouldn't you? _He could not die, and he knew it. All too well. _Yes, your empty, miserable life... _He continued on his way. The mud sloshed and splattered under his thick boots, and the cold mire chilled his flesh. He held his bear pelt tighter around his body as he continued through the dark swamp. _I wonder what will become of Oakvale now? Since there are no survivors, will it simply become a ghost town? _It seemed eerily appropriate. There were few towns that had lost every resident to ghastly shadows. Victor shuddered as he kept walking. He did not want to think about Oakvale. Nor Cammilia or Opal. He wanted to clear his head, but it was impossible. Everything reminded him of them.

Nightfall found an exhausted Victor in Greatwood, just as he had planned. After a sleepless night, and the long trek through Darkwood, the young man was more than ready to call it a night and get some rest. Knowing that bandits and hobbes posed no threat to his immortality, and not caring less had he still been mortal, Victor laid is bearskin down upon the forest floor, and fell asleep.

_Victor scanned the sulphur choked horizon. Oakvale was burning, his daughter was being tortured, and his beautiful wife was fleeing from him. He called and chased after her, but she kept out of his reach. _

_"Cammilia! Cammilia wait for me!" _

_"No Victor. This is all your fault. Opal is dead because of you!" She screamed over the shrieks of the other villagers._

_"Cammilia! I'm sorry!" He pleaded. But she kept on running from him. "CAMMILIA!" He roared. Cammilia whirled around and stopped. She glared evilly at her husband._

_"You lied to me Victor, and I trusted you!"_

_"Please forgive me my angel! Please!" He begged her._

_"I am better off dead, for I shall never love you again." Her voice was cold and cruel. Her image faded into dark smoke as she laughed at him. Her gentle voice became deep and disturbed. It wasn't her voice, and yet it seemed very familiar. _Victor shot up on his bearskin, screaming. His skin was pale and drenched with sweat.

"It was just a dream..." He spoke aloud. Cruel thoughts tugged again at his heart. It hadn't been a dream, it had been very real. Once more, the young man hopelessly buried his head in his hands and began to weep uncontrollably.

Bowerstone was bustling with activity, which was quite rare in the later months. Villagers preferred to stay inside their warm houses than parade out in the cold streets. Victor looked around at the huge houses, which seemed like great palaces to him. It was his first trip to the city, and even after the horrid events of the other night, it was fascinating. He looked into his coin purse. He had a little over 3'000 gold on his person. He had been saving up for his families Christmas presents, he was going to get a new doll for Opal, and a lovely dress for his beloved Cammilia. The memories caused him to tear up again. Victor struggled to regain his composure as a guard walked past. It was his first day in town, and the young man did not want to make a scene. There is no point in having all this loose gold, especially in the crime ridden city._ I need to find a house to live in. _Victor decided as he walked around the town square and examined each of the large houses he passed, but they were all far too expensive for him. Just as he was about to give up, he noticed a smaller house on the opposite side of the market. To his joy, it was marked 3'000 gold. Victor quickly jotted down the name and address of the man who was selling the home and headed in the appropriate direction.

RAP, RAP, RAP! Victor knocked loudly on the wooden door of the landlord. A medium-sized man opened it with a grin.

"May I help you?" He asked. The young man gathered himself.

"I have come to buy the house you have for sale at the far end of town sir."

"Alright. You sound polite enough after all. Any pets?"

"No sir."

"Family?" Victor winced at the question. He gulped down his tears and shook his head.

"No."

"Fine fine! You sound like an ideal tenant! What's your name son?"

"Um, yes. My name is..."He couldn't say that his name was Victor, someone might have heard of the famous Oakvale bounty hunter. He needed a fresh face, a new identity. But what? Although he had decided on a new identity and life, truth be told, Victor had been so bereaved from his families cruel deaths that he hadn't given it much thought.

"Well, spit it out! What's your name?" The man pressed him. Victor closed his eyes tightly. Guilt, loss, and anguish were all he could think about, all that consumed him. Coming up with a name on the spot seemed impossible. _I shall be alone, forever more to reave the loss of my family. _Then, his words hit him. Solemnly, Victor looked deep into the man before him.

"Reaver. My name is Reaver."


	16. Chapter 16

Reaver had been living in Bowerstone for almost a month. While he spend most of his days in lonely solitude, he still had to make the occasional trek to the food stalls and such. It was getting very cold, almost Christmas, and the young man was heading out once more to get some fresh ale. It seemed to be the only thing he touched lately. Still distraught over what he had done, being inebriated provided him with peace, however momentary, and however awful the morning hangovers were, Reaver endured them. As he left his small dwelling, Reaver overheard two women gossiping. He hated eavesdropping, but as the few words he inadvertently caught burned their way through his eardrums, he was helpless to listen.

"Did you hear about Oakvale?" Asked one.

"Not a word." Replied the other.

"It's absolutely horrific! Some travellers went through and found the place in ruins, everyone was dead!"

"Everyone? Are you certain?"

"Yes, very. Not a sign of life, crops burned, and livestock savagely ripped apart."

"What happened? A massacre perhaps?"

"No one knows more than what they saw. It certainly looked like one though."  
"Wasn't anyone out of town who could have survived the attack?"

"No, all the villagers were present, it was their annual harvest festival. No one in Oakvale would ever miss that."

"What of the guards?"

"All dead as well, with nary a struggle. It was as if they had been killed instantly by spirits." The other woman hesitated before piping up again.

"I heard there was a brave bounty hunter who lived there as well. He was the renowned protector of the village. I even heard gossip once that he was a hero." Reaver winced, knowing that they were talking about him.

"They failed to find his body yet, but I'm sure that he perished as well."

"What will become of Oakvale now? Everything has been destroyed."

"I don't know for certain, but that tiny burg shall never be the same again, I'll tell you that." Reaver hurried to make his way past the two flabbergasted women, and down to the food stall, their words still boring their way through his troubled mind:

_"What will become of Oakvale now? Everything has been destroyed." _

_"I don't know for certain, but that tiny burg shall never be the same again, I'll tell you that." _He fought to keep from crying, he knew that the women's words were indeed true. He had doomed his hometown, there was no chance for a recovery.

"Good afternoon sir. What can I interest you in today?" The shopkeeper asked as the young man reached his stall. Reaver looked over the various wines and beers and finally decided on the former of the two. While beer was still the young farm dwellers beverage of choice, he was quickly becoming addicted to the sweet taste of wine.

"Three of those, and a loaf of bread."

"Ok, will that be all then?"

"Yes."

"Twenty gold please." Reaver handed over the currency. He had since added to his new identity by getting a new job, as a crate carrier down by the Bowerstone harbor. Years of bounty hunting had left him muscular and strong, and lifting the crates was an easy way for him to make a living. As he was about to leave, a well-dressed man approached the same stall.

"Has my order arrived yet Jeffery?" He asked the shopkeeper in a serious tone.

"No, not yet. Sorry sir." The man slammed his fist down hard against the roof of the stall, startling both Reaver and the shopkeeper.

"Damn! How many times have I come by this week?!"

"Uh...five sir, since Monday."

"Five days and still no sign of my valuable wares? It's unforgivable! I have a party at my manor tonight and if my sixteen cases of fine wine are not in my possession by then, you are going to have one angry noble on your hands, do you understand Jeffery?"

"Yes sir, but if I can just say one thing..." The angry man grabbed the shopkeeper by his collar and growled at him.

"What!? What do you want to say?" The man known as Jeffery gulped and stammered.

"N-nothing sir..." Reaver watched the scene play out. The shopkeeper being threatened brought back memories of bandits attacking traders, and his bounty hunting side leapt into action. Quickly and firmly, Reaver forced the man's hand from Jeffery's throat. With his other, the young man delivered a firm punch to the attackers face.

"Leave him alone! He's a shopkeeper, not a delivery boy. It's not his fault!" Jeffery yelped and stepped away from the scene. The other man grabbed his face and stood. He glared at Reaver, through a bloody nose and black eye.

"You! What do you think you're doing? You just assaulted a noble of Bowerstone! You'll hang for this, I'll make sure of it!" Reaver smirked.

"Fine. Give me your best shot." The man dropped his hand from his battered face and crooked an eyebrow. Then, much to Reaver's surprise, his lips parted into a grin, and finally, a laugh.

"Well, now! I certainly have never gotten_ that _reaction from a death threat before. Either you're crazy or extremely brave. Which is it boy?"

"A bit of both I suppose." Reaver replied. The man laughed again, harder this time.

"Strength and wits! I like your style kid! Let's just forget all about this little incident and take it from the top. My names Matthew, whats yours?"

"Reaver." The shopkeeper watched the scene unfold in a state of disbelief. Even Reaver was confused as to what had just transpired.

"Strange name, but I like it. It suits you."

"You have no idea..." Reaver replied. Matthew glared at the shopkeeper again, taking delight when he cowered at his gaze.

"Mr. Reaver, I am having a little get-together tonight at my manor. Why don't you drop by for a visit? I live in North Bowerstone, biggest house, you can't miss it." Reaver didn't feel much like getting out, let alone that he already disliked the man for his violent actions. But maybe a party would give him a chance to drown his sorrows with good wine instead of the cheap stuff he'd been guzzling day and night.

"Alright. I'll be there."

"Wonderful. Here is the address to my manor, and the party starts at seven. See you there Reaver!" Matthew jotted down the information onto a sheet of crisp paper and handed it to the young man.

By seven o' clock, when Reaver arrived at Matthew's manor, the party had already begun. He could hear loud shouts and drunken songs being sung from inside the vicinity. Reaver shrugged and knocked once upon the heavy door. A lovely woman with long black hair opened it. Reaver was taken aback by her lovely form, and even more so by the lack of clothing she was donned with. Only a thin strip of satin was wrapped around her genitalia, and another clung to her large breasts. Reaver averted his eyes from her voluptuous form.

"Here for the party?" She asked in a breathy voice.

"Um...yes. Yes I am." Reaver cleared his throat. The woman giggled and pulled on his arm, leading him inside.

"Well then come in silly. That's where the party is!" She teased. Reaver looked around, half in disbelief, and half dumbstruck. Never in all his life had he seen such a promiscuous display. When Matthew had initially invited him, Reaver had thought that it would be a small social gathering, a little get-together as the noble had called it. All too late, he realized that it was one of _those_ parties. The type that Henery used to go to, or the type that his mother would throw, after sending her two sons out to gather berries or play in the fields. Reaver had stayed behind once and concealed in the brush, he had watched as dozens of men piled into their small home, and listened as wails and moans flooded out of the cottage. Truth be told, wild parties had never been the young man's idea of a good time. He was simple, distinguished for his time, and extremely prude. The young man backed up towards the front door again. The same woman grabbed his arm.

"Hey cutie! Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm leaving this festering breeding ground of debauchery this instant. Unhand me at once!" He demanded.

"Oh I get it! First time having sex?" She giggled.

"Certainly not, as if that was any of your business!" Reaver snapped.

"No need to get so upset. You don't need to have sex with me or anyone else here if you really don't want to. To be honest, I'm not up for that sort of thing either."

"You're not?" Reaver asked, suspiciously. "But...you're dressed so..." He motioned over the woman's scantily clad body.

"Oh this? It's just a costume. I like to tease." She winked. "My name is Sasha, what's yours?"

"Reaver."

"Reaver huh? I like it, its unique. Say, why don't I introduce you to my friend, and we could all just relax and have a drink huh?" The young man pondered her proposal. He didn't want to get involved in this corrupted party, but he was also in desperate straits. Ever since he had summoned the Shadow Court and watched helplessly as they had destroyed his home and life, Reaver had been plagued with a horrid reoccurring nightmare. A nightmare that only good booze and distraction could smite, at least momentarily. Reaver followed Sasha over to where her friend was sitting. Sasha waved at her as they approached.

"Hey! I found him over by the door. Isn't he just the cutest?" The other woman giggled, her blonde locks bounced as she did so.

"Yeah, he's a-dorable! What's your name big guy?"

"Reaver. And yours?" The young man asked.

"Cammilia. But my friends just call me Cammi. Makes it easier." Reaver felt his heart crack again. The tightly wound spiral of despair began to unfurl wildly at the very mention of his deceased wifes name. Tears began to collect in the corners of his green eyes.

"Hey Reaver? Are you alright?" Sasha nudged him playfully.

"Yes. I'm just not used to all this smokey air."

"Here, drink this. It'll help clear your head." Cammi smiled, as she passed him a full goblet. Reaver took a shaky sip. It was a very strong drink. Never had he tasted anything so powerful, yet so delicious. His head began to cloud, and a feeling of euphoria filled him. He had to have more of this brew, whatever it was he cared not. For it was making him forget his past, his pain. For the moment, the empty young man was going to be able to enjoy his life again, and that was exactly what he did.

Reaver awoke the next morning, his head aching and his body limp. It took him a moment to realize where he was. It wasn't his house, or even his bed, this he knew. _What happened? My head aches like crazy, and my clothes are gone._ The young man pondered. He wasn't completely sure of exactly what had transpired, until he rolled over. Reaver's eyes widened at the sight of Sasha and Cammi, as well as Matthew, the man who had thrown the party to begin with. Reaver leapt back, falling out of the bed. His antics awakened his sleeping companions. Cammi yawned and stretched, and then grinned a wily smile towards him.

"Good morning hunny." Reaver searched the room frantically, he couldn't see his clothes anywhere. "Looking for something?" The blonde continued.

"My clothes, where are they?!"

"I dunno. I wasn't the one who undressed you after all. I just played along."

"Played along with what exactly!?" Reaver demanded. He was infuriated. He had been invited to a party only to be taken direct advantage of.

"You kept on insisting that I was your wife, so I decided to play along and come to bed with you. You practically begged for me to give you a second chance, and how could I say no to such an adorable face?" She purred. Reaver shook his head. What had he done? Sasha was the second to rise, her black hair a tangled mess.

"I thought you said that you weren't into this sort of thing?!" The young man demanded from her.

"You were gonna leave the party, what did you expect me to say?" Sasha replied suggestively.

"What is wrong with you girls? And where the hell are my clothes?!"

"Here ya go!" Matthew replied, tossing Reaver a key.

"What's this?"

"You said that you wanted to get dressed, and that's a key to my wardrobe."

"Why would I want to wear your clothes?" Reaver demanded.

"Because your own clothes got destroyed." Matthew chuckled.

"Destroyed? What do you mean?!"

"Wasn't hard to rip em' offa you, they were pretty worn." Sasha snickered.

"You lot tore my clothes off?!"

"Yup."

"Why?!"

"Because its kinda hard to make love to someone when your dressed now isn't it?" Cammi remarked. Reaver stepped further away from the crowded bed.

"I slept with all of you last night?!" He asked in disbelief.

"Yep." Sasha replied. Reaver held his head. _How could this be happening?! What kind of man would sleep with three people at once? _Before the erotic events of last night, Reaver had only slept with one person before. His beloved late wife, Cammilia. He looked down at the key in his hand.

"Then I suppose I have no choice in the matter." He spoke, as he made his way to Matthew's wardrobe. Reaver opened the doors, there were several noble looking suits lining the inner closet space. He looked back at Matthew. "Which of these should I take?"

"Whichever one you want, money is clearly no object." Reaver nodded, though inside, he was still furious at the three for taking advantage of him. But if he was ever going to leave the manor, he needed clothing. He skimmed through the elegant outfits, before his eyes came to rest on a crimson and gold suit. It was quite possibly the most exquisite ensemble Reaver had ever seen. He tried it on, and it fit him perfectly. The girls cheered and giggled like mad as Reaver gave himself a look in the mirror. He did indeed look very handsome. He had never thought of himself as exceptional in any way before, other than his skill with a bow. But as he gazed upon his figure in the mirror, Reaver found that he could not tear his eyes away from the man standing before him. _Fine bone structure, well muscled, and striking green eyes, I really am such a beautiful marvel, am I not? _He thought with a grin. He looked back at the bed. The three within obviously agreed.

"You clean up real nice kiddo, stick with me and I'll make a king out of you yet." Matthew joked. Reaver felt strange. Here he was, awakening from a filthy evening with three complete strangers, and donned in expensive clothes. Against all of his firm morals and better judgement, Reaver secretly was proud of himself. As the first fires of pride and vanity filled his mind, so too did a new agenda. His night of drinks and ecstasy had filled the young man with pleasure as well as, oddly enough, purpose. The very notion still seemed awful to him. A life of debauchery, filth and pleasure. Acts of corruption to the likes of which noble Victor would recoil from. But the inevitable was beginning to dawn upon him. _I'm not Victor anymore, I am Reaver! I have eternal life, and I can do whatever I want with it! And believe me, I shall!_


	17. Chapter 17

Reaver awoke screaming in a pool of sweat, much to the annoyance of his two lovely bedfellows. It was about Oakvale again, and Cammilia, and his little Opal. Over the last four years, he had tried so hard to drown them out of his life, but to no avail. _Will you never let me alone? Or will your souls haunt me for the rest of my days? I certainly hope not. I am not he anymore...I am Reaver!_ He rubbed his throbbing temples vigorously.

"Baby, what's the matter? Did you have a bad dream?" Asked one of the women.

"I'm fine dear. Back to sleep now." Reaver muttered. The red haired beauty kissed his awaiting lips before rolling over to the embrace of her friend. Reaver watched the two women for a while, before deciding to take a walk. It was still late night, but he had to clear his head of his grim thoughts.

"Have fun my lovelies, I shall return shortly. Tatty-bye." Reaver gently closed his bedroom door and descended down the stairs. Out into the cold Bowerstone streets he ventured. It had been exactly four years ago today that he had first moved to the city. How much he had seen and done since then! He had gone from a chaste farm dweller to the raunchy and seductive bachelor he was today. He still wore the outfit that he had gotten from Matthew. It had become his trademark around town. The wild scoundrel clad in his red and gold suit. The young man walked slowly through the dark alley, his thick black boots trodding across the cobblestone. As he reached the edge of the Bower Bridge, Reaver looked out across the sea. It reminded him of his first voyage, back in Oakvale. Of his failed battled with the Nocturnal Kraken. How he longed to be aboard an elegant vessel such as the _Heaven's Beacon_ once more!_ This town is getting a bit too boring for me. I need to stretch my legs and get out here, I need to do something with my eternal youth. I need to put it towards more productive uses. _Reaver thought as the wind whipped through his wavy locks. He began to stroke his small goatee, a silent sign that he was thinking. He had heard rumors of a secret organization run out of Bloodstone. _Perhaps I should go and see about joining up. I could use my skills there. _He watched the waves roll in and out in time with the tide, in a dance that the great sea had done for an eternity. Thousands of years from now, it would be the same dance, the same rhythm. But would other things remain the same? For the first time since gaining his eternal life, Reaver began to understand what it meant. Years would pass, civilizations would rise and fall, invention and progress would shake him to his very core. Everyone he had ever known, lovers and foes alike, would all meet their ends, yet he would outlive them all. Despite his newfound wicked and selfish tendencies, Reaver still felt an aching loneliness inside his soul. He secretly longed for Oakvale, and for Cammilia again. The women he loved, and the crazy life he led, only masked his pain. Mere playthings to occupy his time, and to distract him. He looked out over the ocean again. _If you ever decide to stop your nautical waltz, I shall be the only one to ever see it._ He gave a dark, yet depressed smirk. As the sun began to creep over the horizen, the young man decided that it was time to head for home. As he entered the front door, a sinister aura swept around the room. Reaver cautiously locked the door, and moved his hand towards his hunting knife, his only remaining relic from his days as a bounty hunter.

"Who's there?" He yelled. Reaver could hear faint whispers emanating from around the darkness of his room. His eyes fell to his study. There was a half drank bottle of red wine, as well as several papers, mainly diary entries. But there was also something else. Reaver's hairs stood on end as the circular shape became clear. A black seal, bearing the sinister crest of a serpentine blood-red dragon, sat upon his desk. He knew this seal, this evil mark, for it had etched itself upon his memory, forever to cause him fear.

"It's been four years..."Cold sweat broke free of every pore, as Reaver recalled the words of the demons who had slayed his family:

_"Every four years, this seal shall appear before you. When this happens, you must give the seal to a mortal human, and instruct them to return it to us."_ It was time, whether he liked it or not, to send a sacrificial victim into the grip of the Shadow Court. But who? Who could he possibly send to their deaths? _Does it really matter?! All that I am concerned with is keeping my youth and keeping my soul out of the demonic grip of those shades. _His future was then decided. He would head for Bloodstone, but on the way, he would make a quick detour with his latest bedfellows, Margret and Bridgett. _Margret is the younger of the two, and truth be told, I never liked her very much. I only slept with her to begin with because she was friends with my beautiful Bridgett._ Reaver chuckled. _Yes, Bridgett is amazing, I think I'll keep her a while longer. I'll sacrifice that less than special friend of hers instead. I'll be able to replace her easily enough when I get to Bloodstone anyway..._He looked at the dark seal once more before heading upstairs. Margret and Bridgett were still fast asleep as he approached their bedside.

"Wake up darlings...it's time to get going." He purred into Bridgett's earlobe. He stroked the deep red hair from her cheek as her green eyes opened slowly.

"Baby? What time is it then?"

"Time to get up I'm afraid my dear. We have to get going."

"Ooh! Where are we going?" Asked Margret.

"To Bloodstone."

"All the way to Bloodstone? But I have work tomorrow!" The younger girl protested. Reaver rolled his eyes at the complaint. _No wonder I have never liked you. _He shook his head.

"I have work as well, but you don't see me complaining now do you?"

"Nor I! Come on Margret, it's not everyday that we get to go on holiday!" Bridgett replied excitedly. Reaver wrapped his arm around her, causing her to shriek.

"See? Your charming friend wants to go." Reaver spoke in a playful tone. He extended his index finger to Margret's face and stroked her chin. "What do you say my sweet? Will you come and take a little trip with us?" Margret huffed unhappily, but finally reasoned that going on a trip with a handsome man and her best friend was a good idea after all.

"All right, you convinced me. Never liked my job as a tailor much anyway." She winked.

"Quite. It's much more exciting to undress people is it not?" Reaver leaned closer as his finger inched downwards towards her awaiting bosoms.

"Oh Reaver! You're such a tease!" Margret pushed his advancing hands away playfully. Reaver's green eyes blazed as he leapt upon her without so much as a warning. The lovers plummeted into the bed, soon joined by Bridgett.

"Who's teasing my kitten?" The charming scoundrel replied as he licked her exposed throat.

The last of his few belongings packed, Reaver anxiously awaited for Bridgett and Margret to join him outside of his home. He scoffed as he looked upon the locked house, one last time. It was so small, too small for his growing needs of luxury and gold. He had just sold it for three times the acquired price. Reasoning that he was moving to Bloodstone, and therefore he would be miles away and unreachable, gave Reaver the opportunity to badly cheat the new owner. He pawed through his newly acquired currency, as he waited for the two lovely women to show. It was late afternoon when they finally did however, and an impatient Reaver was eager to be on his way.

"What took you two so long?" He demanded.

"Sorry, I just wanted to get my hair done for the trip." Margret giggled, running her fingers through her brown locks which looked no different than when Reaver had seen her that morning.

"Yes...well, chop chop! We have a long journey ahead of us." He commanded, wrapping his arms around the two.

"How are we going to get to Bloodstone without a ship?" Bridgett piped up.

"Simple. We walk."

"Walk?!" The two girls slipped out of his grasp and stared at him in disbelief. Reaver met their gaze with a nonchalant look of his own.

"Yes, walk. Is there a problem?" Both women began to protest, but their words barely rose beyond whimpers of disapproval before the agitated man before them. Even weaponless, Reaver had always projected an air of intimidating power. Even whilst standing perfectly still, he was imposing.

"But my hair..." Margret finally objected. Reaver sneered at her.

"Margret, your bloody hair looks exactly as it did this morning when you woke up. If rats nest was the look you were going for, then congratulations. Now let's go!" Shocked by his harsh words and sudden temper outbreak, both girls stared at him. Bridgett nudged her friend.

"We should probably be going."

"But he just insulted me!" Margret protested.

"Just forget about it. You know how men are about that kind of thing." Bridgett giggled, trying to smooth over her beau's sharp words. She didn't like Margret's hair either, but she was eager to join Reaver in Bloodstone.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Besides, he has been a little moody lately."

"Yes, I noticed. I wonder whats up with him?"

"Girls! Today please!" Reaver called, already halfway up the Bower Bridge. Both Margret and Bridgett scampered to catch up with him.

The three travellers made their way through Greatwood in silence. The worn dirt path was dusted in a thin layer of ice and snow, and the trees had grown so barren since Reaver's last trip through the forest. Or rather, Victor's. The man who had died along with the rest of his village. Neither girl understood why Reaver had opted not to take a ship to Bloodstone, as it would have been easier. While it wasn't a terribly long jaunt from Bowerstone to Bloodstone, around three days, it was still a treacherous journey. The lonely roads between the two towns were filled with all sorts of peril. The sun was almost entirely gone, and monsters and outlaws were an even greater threat at night. As Reaver and his lovelies rounded the hill, three bandits jumped out from their hiding places, startling Margret and Bridgett. Reaver leapt into action, his thick dagger in tow. The rogues laughed at the sight of the small blade.

"Are ye serious mate? That wee blade against us and our axes?" Reaver watched as their chortles grew louder, his cunning green eyes sparkling. "I suppose I shouldn't complain, just makes it easier fer us ta kill ye." The three bandits advanced on the young man, Bridgett and Margret cowering behind their shared lover. With great speed, Reaver flung his knife at the nearest bandit. It sunk deep into his attackers chest, and the bandit toppled over. The remaining two men looked at each other in disbelief, and a little worry. They had good reason to be nervous. Reaver rushed forth, retrieving his blade from his downed attacker. From behind, he forced his dagger into the second brutes throat. The bandit gave a gurgled cry of agony, as Reaver withdrew the knife. The last bandit decided it would be wise to abandon the attack and flee. But the skilled young man wasn't about to let that happen. As Bridgett and Margret squeezed their eyes tighter, Reaver gave chase. The lone bandit looked over his shoulder once as he ran. The green eyes of the tall man pursuing him were filled with blood lust and darkness. Reaver grinned as the man began to tire. He had always been the fastest runner in his village, and rarely grew fatigued._ And you spoke of your advantage so confidently before. Fool. _His wicked smile widened, revealing his teeth, tightly clenched. Raising his arm behind his his head, Reaver thrust the blade forward, and stopped short as it found its mark. The bandit lurched once and tripped over a fallen log. Stunned from the impact and the knifes decent into his lung, he gasped for air as Reaver approached him. The young man would never forget the sheer horror and desperation in the rogues eyes as he pulled free his blade once more, before ending his life. After cleaning his dagger, Reaver looked towards where his beauties were still cowering.

"Come on, get up. Lets be on our way."


	18. Chapter 18

The days passed slowly for Reaver. He was less than happy for the company of the two women. He liked Bridgett well enough, but had he not required her for the sacrifice, he would have rather left Margret behind. She was far too talkative and bubbly for his taste. He preferred women who had a bite, a fire, something that set them apart from the rest. An exotic jewel ripe for his plundering. Margret was not such a jewel, she was a necessary evil in his immortality, nothing more. The three travellers passed through Barrow Fields, Reaver was surprised at how dismal the once golden fields had become. The air was choked with the stale stench of stagnant water and dead plants. Healthy green grass was now brown, and covered in a thick layer of mud and muck. Reaver lifted his boots higher as he walked along, for the ground was moist and the soil was weak. _What the hell happened here? It's as if the entire area is turning into one big swamp! _He thought, swatting a mosquito from his cheek. He jumped as Margret's shrill voice found his ears.

"Eww! This place is so icky and wet! I told you we should have taken a carriage! And this humidity is ruining my hair!" Reaver looked over his shoulder at the two women. They were both looking ragged and dirty, their clothes were stained from days of sleeping on the ground. The shallow young man had grown so accustomed to his new city life, that the quaint look of a simple farm girl no longer caused his heart to race. He was used to radiant, well-groomed beauties now, the type who wore fancy clothes and gallons of perfume. Now, with the lack of makeup they were wearing, and their dirty clothes, Reaver could barely stand to look at either of them. Even his favorite, Bridgett, was looking terrible. Her red hair was a tangled mess, and her face was covered in blemishes without her powder. _How did I ever survive in a village like Oakvale? Nobody there was particularly attractive, and I was the only one with an advanced education. Maybe this mistake of mine was for the best after all._ As the wicked words hit home, the face of a beauty danced across his mind. A small smile on her pale pink lips, and a crown of flowers in her honey blonde hair. She was beautiful, the most beautiful, and Reaver knew he would never forget her. Despite his cold thoughts, he knew the truth. He wanted her back, even after four years, he wanted to belive that it was all a horrible nightmare. That he was still the chaste and loving man he once had been. Reaver shook his head, and continued on his way. But as he entered the town outskirts, the young man stopped. He had changed so much in such a short while, but his new identity and motives were still a mere front. Inside, he was still a weak, frightened peasant. He stood there, afraid to enter his hometown. Afraid to enter through the gates of the village that had entrusted their lives to him, the community he alone had doomed out of selfish stupidity. As he stood paralyzed under the village sign, Bridgett came to his side and tugged on his arm.

"Hey Reaver, come on! I want to get to Bloodstone and take a bath!" She whined. Reaver averted his eyes from the sign, and looked down at her.

"Just one more stop, and we'll be there my dear." He smiled cunningly, but his tone was still very distant. Margret joined the two, and made a face at the ghost town.

"What a dump! Who in their right mind would want to live in a place like this?!"

"Farmers Margret. Everyone knows how stupid they are." Bridgett replied dryly. Reaver bristled at her thoughtless words.

"Yeah, and poor! If you ask me, they all deserved what they got. After all, what use could such people have anyway?" Margret replied. As he continued to take in the words fo the two women, memories once again forced their way into his head. His wife, his little girl, and all of his friends. The entire village had loved him. Reaver could remember sitting in Farmer Ben's barn, enjoying a pint with his buddies, or fishing with them. They way Cammilia and he had been. _Ah, Cammilia, you and I had been best friends since the very beginning. _He mused. They had known each other since they had been mere toddlers. Reaver had been her playmate, her protector against the village bullies, and later, much more. He recalled how they would sneak out in the middle of the night as teens, how he had first kissed her under the weeping willow tree, a lone tree that stood atop the highest hill in Oakvale. The young man squeezed his eyes closed as the pain ripped across his shattered heart:

_The young woman looked up at the lanky young man before her. She was afraid. Afraid that his actions would hurt her. The girl had never been kissed before, never been loved. Victor reached out and touched her cheek. Cammilia looked up into his soothing green eyes. _

_"Cammilia, my darling."_

_"Victor..." She stuttered. Victor gently leaned forward and gingerly placed his lips to hers. _

_"I love you Cammilia." _

_"I love you too. Victor, promise me that you will love me forever..."_

_"I promise you." _

Without warning, Reaver thrust his dagger to the ignorant young woman's neck. Bridgett shrieked at the sight of her enraged beau, his weapon to her best friend's trembling throat.

"Do you even _know _what type of people lived here?! They were mothers with tender hearts, children with big dreams and futures, and fathers who would have done_ anything _to keep their families happy and safe..." His body grew cold and stiff at the irony in his own words. _Would have done anything..._Reaver let his hand fall from Margret, and the stunned woman retreated to her friends side.

"H-he just tried to kill me!" She stammered. Bridgett looked at Reaver. He was standing perfectly still, staring down at the murky soil.

"Reaver! What's gotten into you?!" She demanded. Reaver looked up slowly, glaring at her.

"Your friend would be wise to hold her tongue in the future." He growled. It wasn't far now, as much as he had wanted to end Margret right there, Reaver knew that it would spell his undoing. He needed her for the King of Shadows. _I wonder where I'm supposed to take her anyway? Now would probably be a good time to look at that seal, maybe there's a clue on it somewhere._Reaching deep within the burlap sack that held his belongings, Reaver pulled free the odious black seal. Again, it slit his fingertips, and the red dragon atop it began to shimmer at the touch of his blood. Suddenly, the seal began to forcefully pull at the young man's hands. Reaver stood and dug his heels deep into the mud. He tried to pull the seal back towards his chest, but his efforts only slashed his hands more. Bridgett and Margret screamed as the dark seal began to take hold of Reaver's body, pulling him along.

"Reaver! What's going on?!" Bridgett demanded. Reaver looked back at her.

"I-I don;t know." As he spoke, he tried to reason what was happening. A loud voice boomed across the empty mire.

"Hey you! Who goes there?!" It demanded. Reaver looked up from the seal, and saw a familiar voice. His heart nearly leapt at the sight of the man who stood just a mere thirty feet away from him. It was his old friend, Gregg, and he was still very much alive. Reaver dropped the seal, and the otherworldly pull fell away from the object as he did so, allowing it to clatter to the ground.

"Gregg! You're alive!" Reaver rushed towards his old friend. He was overjoyed that not everyone in Oakvale had died on that awful day. Gregg's eyes widened at the sight of the young bounty hunter.

"Victor? Is that you?" He asked.

"Yes! Yes it is!" He proclaimed. The two men looked each other over for a moment, before embracing.

"I thought that I was the lone survivor of this awful massacre. But I guess I was wrong, at least slightly." Gregg patted Reaver on the shoulder. "You always were a true hero Victor, how did you and your family manage to escape?" The young man turned away, unable to keep his face light and cheery.

"Cammilia and Opal...they didn't survive the attack." Gregg's expression paled.

"I'm...so sorry Victor."

"So am I." There was a long pause, until Gregg noticed the two confused women in the background.

"Hey Victor? Who are they?"

"Oh, them? That's a long story..." Reaver replied awkwardly. It was strange and confusing, being faced with a man from his face. A man who remembered the old him. The side of the young man that he had been trying for years to cover over, and eventually, forget.

"Reaver!" Called Bridgett, running over to his side, along with Margret. "Reaver, are you gonna tell us why you flipped out back there or what?" Gregg looked up at Reaver, inquisitively.

"Reaver?! What, did you change your name then?" Gregg scoffed, thinking that it was a simple pet name, or maybe even a joke. But the distraught look on his friends face assured him that it was neither. "Oh...I see... It must have affected you pretty badly then. Again, I'm sorry for your loss."

"Who are you? I thought everyone in this village died?" Margret finally spoke up.

"No, not everyone. I was out of town visiting my sister and her new baby at the time. It was a real shame to miss out on the harvest festival, or at least so I thought. But when I got back...I just couldn't belive it..." He trailed off. He looked back at Reaver."So how did you survive anyway?"

"I just did ok? Listen Gregg, I know what happened was terrible, but I'm really pressed for time at the moment."

"Hang on!" Gregg looked at his friend, with both worry and a little fear. "What happened to you? This isn't the man I grew up with." Gregg looked back at Bridgett and Margret.

"Listen Gregg, I really need to be on my way now!" Reaver roared. His old friend backed away, still concerned. "Come on ladies." Bridgett and Margret nodded, and Margret rushed in behind Reaver, tugging on his coat.

"Hey Reaver. Back there, you forgot this." She handed him the dark seal, her hands nicked slightly. Gregg looked down at the seal, and his eyes narrowed. He had seen this mark somewhere before, but where? Then he remembered. It was the mark he had found burned into the top floor of the watchtower, He winced as he recalled to stench of sulphur and charred wood upon returning to his place of residence.

"Wait a minute. Victor, where did you get that?!" He demanded. Reaver pulled the seal away from his old friend.

"That's none of your concern Gregg. Mind your own business!"

"If that seal is linked to the destruction of Oakvale then that _is _my business!" He demanded. Reaver glared at him. "I saw that same accursed mark on the floor of my tower when I got back from my sister's house. So let me ask you again Victor, where did you get that thing?"

"Reaver, why does he keep calling you Victor?" Bridgett asked.

"Because that's his real name, whether he wants to admit it or not." Gregg continued. Reaver turned away from the confrontation, from the truth. He could see it in his best friend's eyes, hear it in his words. Gregg was far too intelligent to belive the rumors of the fall of Oakvale being the work of bandits. Reaver knew, somewhere deep in the heart of his soul, that his friend knew that it was indeed the young man's fault. Reaver looked at his two lovelies.

"Come on. Let's make that detour and be on our way." As the women filed in behind him, the young man glanced back towards Gregg, who was looking at the carnage and shaking his head. As the travellers continued towards the center of town, Reaver overheard his friends last sentiment.

"I trusted you, we all did. Of all people Victor, how could you do a thing like this...You are indeed a reaver..."


	19. Chapter 19

Reaver looked back down at the evil seal he held in his hands. It was still humming with energy, but it had since ceased to take hold of him again. He still had no idea where he was supposed to take Margret, and it was getting late. His old friend's words still bothered him. He had initially named himself Reaver, on account of the fact that _he _was the one who had been robbed, of his family, of his village. But now he was beginning to understand that it was he who had robbed them. The innocent people who looked up to him for protection, his beloved wife, and sweet daughter. _At least the name still works. _He scoffed, trying to make light of the horrid truth. Both Bridgett and Margret had remained quiet for the remainder of the trek, both tired and feeling uneasy around their shared beau, ever since his unpredictable behaviour earlier. The young man looked back at the seal again. _There must be an obvious place that they expect me to take her, but where? _As the three travellers passed under the dilapidated remains of the wooden bridge, he received his answer. Reaver jumped back, at the sight of the huge, looming castle that stood before him. It was the same ghostly tomb that had appeared temporarily when he had first summoned the demons. _Of course! The place where I summoned them! _Now that he knew where to go, Reaver felt a warm relief wrap around his bones. He had been getting a little worried that he would not find the specific location for the sacrifice, and therefore, would break his pact. That was not an option for the young man anymore. The shades had told him that if he ever went back on their deal, he would never see his wife and daughter again, and as corrupt as he was becoming, Reaver still held out the hope of seeing them again one day. Besides, it was better to live an empty and wicked life, than willingly give his soul away to the denizens of hell.

"Well, this is it. Let's just head in there and get this over with." Reaver spoke for the first time in an hour to his two lovely woman.

"There's no way I'm going in there!" Margret shrieked. Bridgett hid behind her friend, clasping Reaver's arm tightly.

"Me neither! Whatever happened to going to Bloodstone?!"

"Ladies, we cannot possibly go to Bloodstone without first allowing me to complete a little business transaction, now can we?" Reaver cooed to them.

"Well then go! But Bridgett and I are staying put!" Margret shot back, crossing her arms. Reaver snarled at her reply. He had taken every rude and disrespectful gesture he could bear from Margret, and she was not about to cost him his soul. The young man viciously grabbed her arm, and pulled her into the court. Margret screamed and cried, while Bridgett called out to her, and yelled at her lover, but Reaver heard none of it. His twisted mind was focused elsewhere. Lost amongst hazy memories and good intentions gone awry, all the young man could think of, was keeping those accursed demons away from his being. The double doors swung shut behind the two, as Reaver pulled Margret further and deeper into the castle.

"Let me go! I demand you!" She whined, terrified by the thick presence of evil that hung in the air. Reaver continued to ignore her pleas, as he reached the end of the hallway. His heart stopped at the engraving of a large, red dragon upon the door. Reluctantly, he pushed the door open with his free hand, and pulled Margret inside. The young man glanced around at the darkness. He had no idea what would be lurking in the shadows, let alone if he was even in the right place. But then, a shrill screech stopped his mind from thinking. The three dark ghosts from that awful night reappeared before him. Reaver jerked backwards upon seeing their crimson eyes, full of fire, full of malice.

"Welcome, King of Thieves. Bring forth the sacrifice." The midmost demon roared. With trembling hands, Reaver pushed Margret down to the feet of the three.

"W-where are we?! Who are you?!" The petrified girl begged of the shades.

"Give her the mark upon which our pact was decided." The monsters demanded. Reaver was unsure as to what they were requesting. He had already brought them a victim, what else did they require? A cold twinge of fear grabbed at the back of his neck. _What if I have forgotten something? What will they do to me then?_ His mind raced with all the gristly scenes from that fateful night. His wife was impaled, his daughter had been skinned alive, what awful fate awaited him? Reaver cringed at the thought. He knew that his death would be far worse than any of the other villagers. The lead beast roared loudly, causing the young man to look up at the shades again.

"Bring forth the Dark Seal. This mortal must hold it in order for us to perform the final ritual." Reaver took a deep breath, thankful that his pact was not in jeopardy. Quickly, he retrieved the black seal and forced it into Margret's cold grasp. Her palms bled profusely as Reaver shoved it deep into her hands. She looked up at him.

"What's going on? Why are you doing this to me?" She asked him frantically. Reaver turned away.

"I have to." He replied, his tone distant. The shadows rose and began to circle Margret, preparing to take her. Reaver continued to stare at the floor of the dark keep, unable to watch. All he heard was an agonizing cry, followed by a bitter sizzle.

"It is complete. You have fulfilled the bargain, for now." The leader growled. Reaver looked back to the demons, their black tunics were now coated in deep crimson. "Come the next four years, another victim must be brought to us, here at the Shadow Court."

"The Shadow Court?" The young man asked.

"That is the name of this ruin. It has been our home since the dawn of time, and so shall it remain. We shall be happy to accept your sacrifices here, Victor. For all eternity."

"I am no longer Victor. My name is Reaver."

"So be it. Your title matters not, it is your loyalty to us that we value."

"What happens now?" Reaver asked.

"You may go on with your life, enjoy your immortality." They replied through dark grins and mocking chortles. "But you must never neglect our pact, or we shall come for you."

"I understand." The young man nodded, as the Dark Seal faded into sulphurous smoke.

As he reemerged from the depths of the Shadow Court, Bridgett was waiting for him and her best friend.

"Reaver! Where did you go? Where is Margret?!" She demanded. Reaver didn't answer her. Instead, he continued to walk away towards Bloodstone. His femme fatale rushed in front of him, nearly causing him to stumble. The young man sneered at her insolence. "Where is my friend?" Bridgett again demanded of him.

"I disposed of her." He growled, his green eyes filled with hatred and annoyance.

"You killed her?!" Bridgett gasped, her own eyes widening in disbelief.

"Not exactly, but she _is_ dead."

"Why did you take her in there?! What came over you Reaver?!" Bridgett continued, tears streaming across her dirty cheeks.

"Bridgett darling, I can't help what transpired within that ungodly abode. But let's be honest, she was getting rather annoying. Besides, I never liked her..." He reached around Bridgett's waist, and purred into her ear. "The way I like you..." The woman was beside herself with fear and rage. The man she loved had just caused her best friend to perish, and he wasn't even acting sorry for it. Instead, he was telling her that Margret was annoying, and that he had never even liked her. Forcefully, she pushed off Reaver's advances.

"Get away from me! You horrible man!"

"Oh come now Bridgett! Let's not behave too rashly my dear. Why just think; by this time tomorrow you and I will be in a cozy coastal home, making love and indulging in the finer aspects of life." He coaxed. "Who knows? Perhaps we shall even get married."

"I would never marry you! In fact, when we get to Bloodstone, the very first thing I'm going to do is tell everyone what you did to Margret!"

"Those poor uncivilized brigands? Do you really think that they would even care?" He snorted.

"Maybe not, but I'll bet they would care to know if the man who doomed Oakvale was indeed in their midst." She countered. Reaver looked at her and scoffed, thinking that she was joking. But as he caught sight of the glimmer in her cunning eyes, the young man's smile disappeared. He advanced on Bridgett, forcing her body against the cold wall of the Shadow Court.

"You would dare betray me?!" He hissed.

"You bet." She snapped. A wicked smile replaced his harsh frown, as Reaver's long fingers toyed with the bone handle of his hunting knife.

"Then I suppose that it can't be helped." Before she could comment, the young man sliced her thin neck. A fountain of warm burgundy splattered across his maddened expression as Bridgett slid down the castle wall, before collecting into an awkward heap at her beau's feet. Using the thin folds of her travelling coat, Reaver cleaned his blade and sheathed it. He stared down at the murdered woman for a moment. It frightened him a little at just how easy it was becoming for him to kill._ To think that four years ago, you could barely bring yourself to report Xaiver to the town guards for witchcraft._ The young man continued to watch as Bridgett's stunned expression cemented to her paling face, and the last of the blood river receded from her still throat. A cold wind whipped across the desolate mire, taking the last of the broken man's soul with it.

Reaver reached Bloodstone that night and immediately made his way down towards the docks. He had heard rumors that a sinister gang recruited and trained new members out that way, and the young man could already see why. There was an extreme abundance of pirates, beggars, and other shady-looking individuals. None of these people were dressed as nicely as he, and Reaver was beginning to seriously regret not travelling in more appropriate attire. _Maybe I should head for the tavern until morning. _He thought, looking towards the cheap inn about forty feet away. He hadn't eaten all day and a rest, coupled with a bite to eat sounded like a wonderful idea. Reaver took out his purse of coins and began to count his gold.

"Oi! Ye better have a good reason ta be walkin' around Captain Skull's turf after dark. Well do ye mate?" A gruff voice rang from behind the young man. Reaver casually replaced his sack of currency. A dangerous grin found his lips. He knew all about the sinister organizations that operated out of Bloodstone, and had heard horrendous stories of the many violent crimes. He was also quite aware of this Captain Skull, for he was the most powerful pirate captain in all of Albion, the man behind it all, and it was he whom Reaver sought.

"Well, there's only one way to find out." Reaver replied, still not facing the man. The brigand couldn't help but laugh. Then from behind, a man in soot-covered overalls approached Reaver.

"What do you want?" He asked rudely. .

"I'm here to join the members of the Bloodstone Underworld." The man made a face.

"Why on earth would ye want ta join us?! Ya look like nothin' more than a rich nobleman. I wis jist gettin' ready ta mug ye." He laughed.

"Oh?" The young man retorted. The tough brigand was taken aback by his casual attitude. Never before had he encountered such a well-dressed man with a complete lack of fear for pirates. His buddy interjected.

"Show Grag here a little respect! You're already in deep trouble." He snapped.

"Apologies sirs. I have had a hard day."

"Listen, we be kinda pressed fer time here, could ye please jist let us kill ye and take yer gold?" The man called Grag interrupted.

"Of course, terribly sorry. Take your best shot gents." Reaver replied. The two men began to laugh wickedly as they pulled free their cutlasses, and advanced on the young man. Through the corner of his eye, Reaver sprung into action. Pulling free his dagger, he once again made quick work of his assailants. Reaver looked down towards the two wounded men, and grinned.

"You shant die if you show me some respect for the remainder of our little visit. Since I am such a generous man, I'll be blunt with you fools. If you value your lives, you will tell me where the Bloodstone Underground is located, and how I can become a member. I suggest you think very quickly, as your cuts are quite deep."

"...Sixth Warehouse on the left. You'll meet a man there called Vernon. Give him this, and he'll fill you in." The second man gasped, pulling free a small silver medallion from his pocket. He passed it to Reaver, who took it greedily.

"See? That wasn't too difficult now was it?" He crooned mockingly. He flipped the silver coin once, before leaving his bloodied attackers behind.


	20. Chapter 20

There was a long silence as the ten men looked down upon the young man who had just entered their midst.

"What are you doing here darling? How did you even get here? It's dangerous to come down here to the underworld without any protection." They jeered at the seemingly weak and innocent nobleman who sat before them. Reaver eyed them all warily, but offered no response to their taunts. He just continued to smile his wily grin. From around the corner, a tall man with a shaved head and thick build entered the dimly lit alcove. He glared at Reaver and the young man held up the small silver coin he had taken earlier from the two men.

"Oi! Does anyone mind telling me what exactly _he's _doing here?" The man asked the ten thugs, thinking Reaver's very presence some sort of joke.

"I belive this fair damsel would like to have a word with you," One of the ruffians grinned a mouthful of yellowed and broken teeth, before turning to Reaver. " isn't that right?" Reaver looked up to the leaders awaiting expression, and nodded.

"Yes I would." The large man closed the door to the room he had just come in from, and walked over to Reaver.

"Yes? What is it?" He demanded. Reaver stood to meet him.

"I wish to join your gang." At his words, the entirety of the small warehouse was flooded with ear-splitting laughter. Men slapped their knees and some fell from their chairs, still cackling. Reaver stood firm, never letting his eyes leave those of the leader. The tall man held up his palm for the others, causing them to cease their jeering.

"Well, this is a surprise. Usually your type is too scared to face up to me, let alone want to join my crew."

"I'm full of surprises, I think you'll find." Reaver grinned.

"I see. The name's Verion."

"Reaver."

"You're definitely unique, but that won't exactly help my group will it? What are you worth boy?"

"I'd say about ten gold per night." One of the men at the table piped up, causing the others to burst out laughing again. The leader quickly pulled free his blunderbuss and filled the offending brigand's stomach with a mixture of shrapnel and gunpowder. The man groaned once, and the others fell silent. The leader turned back to Reaver, and nodded.

"You were about to say?"

"I am a good shot."

"A good shot huh? Well then, where's your weapon? From what I can tell, you don't even own a gun or a bow. How can you be a good shot without those?" Reaver pulled out his hunting knife, and grinned.

"Allow me to demonstrate. Tell me what to hit, and I will." The leader smirked at the young man's confident words.

"Yeah alright." He pointed to a beer bottle fifty feet away. "How about that?" Reaver looked at him, crooking an eyebrow.

"Really? And here I thought you had a challenge for me." He took aim at the bottle, and flung his dagger. The blade made a whizzing sound as it cut through the air, before shattering into its target. A few of the men emitted low whispers of awe upon witnessing the seemingly pathetic man's skill. Even the leader nodded as Reaver retrieved his weapon.

"Not bad. Not too shabby at all really."

"If you don't mind, I'd be more than happy to show you something truly impressive."

"And what would that be?" The leader asked. Reaver's eyes glistened.

"Come outside with me, and I'll show you."

The two men exited the warehouse, and Verion followed Reaver down to the docks, along with ten of his men. When they reached the edge of the shoreline, Reaver pointed out over the expanse of blue.

"Do you see that?" He asked. Verion shook his head. He could see nothing amongst the choppy blue, save for a tiny ship, hundreds of yards away.

"No. What is it boy?"

"A trader's ship. Once a year they pass by Bloodstone, carrying all sorts of rare items from other countries. But they dare not stop off here, for fear of being shanghaied." Reaver explained.

"Yes. And your point?"

"Let's make a deal to secure my place within your organization. If I swim out there, loot their ship, and bring you back a treasure by tomorrow morning, then I'm in. Deal?" Several of Verion's men cackled at the young man's words.

"Are ye kiddin'?" No one has ever swam out ta sea ta loot a ship! It's suicide!"

"I'm a very strong swimmer. I once swam through kraken infested waters and lived." The young man replied, which prompted more of the men to laugh. But Verion himself, was intrigued.

"Morning light's no more than three hours off, tops. If you can manage all that in three hour's time, then I would be honored to count you amongst my gang." Reaver nodded.

"I shall not disappoint."

Reaver removed his red and gold suit, and carefully folded the dirty garments before stuffing them deep into his traveling bag. It would be easier to swim quickly without the restricting ensemble, and besides, it was his only piece of clothing, and Reaver did not want it ruined. Dressed in nothing more than his undergarments, the young man prepared himself, and leapt into the salty abyss.

A tanned sailor stood at the stern of the immense ship, watching the shores of Bloodstone cautiously. He disliked sailing this close to the small pirate town, and for good reason. Many of his friends ships had gone the same route, and had never been heard from again.

"Tis the last stretch. If I can just make it through the night, it shall be simple enough to make it back home." The man looked behind him at the barrels of spices and fish that he and his crew had bartered for in the far off land of Samarkand. Three months of nothing but sand and sea had made the captain yearn for his homeland, and he was almost there. A tall and fat older man approached him.

"Captain Laszlo. Knothole Island is less than two days trek from here." He informed. Laszlo nodded without looking at his comrade.

"Good. It's been a long journey, and I've miss my family Reginald." The other man chuckled.

"I'll bet ol' Laura misses you too. Not to mention your little ones, Jordan and Colin."

"Yes. Colin's birthday is coming up. He'll be a man before I know it. He's gotten so strong, always practicing with that axe of his. Who knows? One day, maybe he'll be a hero..."

"Aww come on now Laszlo! Heroes are all gone! The last one, that Victor fellow from Oakvale, he died in the massacre." Reginald scoffed, lighting his pipe.

"Perhaps you are right. After all, a bloodline such as that could never go on forever. Times are changing Reginald. I see it all around me, in the sea, on the land. Men are becoming corrupt, and the old ways and religions are becoming obsolete. Who knows what the world will be like in a hundred years?"

"Who indeed sir." The two men continued to watch the vast sea before them, the lull of the waves soothing their worries and uncertainty. A loud thud startled Reginald from his smoke. He looked at his captain, who was equally disturbed.

"Did you hear something Reg?" Laszlo asked, concerned.

"Yes. I did."

"I wonder what it-" The captain's words were cut short by a harsh slash to his throat. Through his fading red vision, Laszlo gazed in horror as his assailant brutally stabbed Reginald. Once he was sure that the two men were dead, Reaver cleaned his blade and began to search the ship. It wasn't a particularly large vessel, but the prizes which awaited the young rogue were far more impressive. Reaver's eyes gleamed with greed and triumph as he ran his hands through the barrels of precious jewels. But one in particular caught his attention. It was a large ruby, the biggest that Reaver had ever seen. The young man clasped the large jewel and began to pull. But to his surprise, the jewel did not budge. Reaver grunted, as he pulled harder on the treasure. It would be dawn soon, and he was determined to secure his place within the Bloodstone Underworld.

"Come on..." He pulled again. The ruby finally became unwedged from the barrel, but it wasn't alone. The young man let out a triumphant cheer when he discovered that the large gem was actually part of the gold hilt of a cutlass. "A golden cutlass with a ruby hilt eh? This will definitely impress that fat old trout." With his new weapon in tow, Reaver filled his satchel with several of the remaining jewels and gold, before diving off the ship.

Verion's eyes widened as the waterlogged young man pulled himself free of the ocean. It was almost dawn, and the world was an unreal hue of blue, casting purple shadows across the seaside village.

"Here. I hope that these shall be to your liking." Reaver handed Verion the sack containing his newly stolen goods. The Underground's leader grinned through his rotten teeth. He looked at the soaked young man. Until now he had thought Reaver an innocent child.

"Well done boy! Welcome to the Bloodstone Underworld!" Verion bellowed, slapping Reaver across the back. He then held up the treasures for the rest of his gang to see. The others gasped, none had expected the nobleman to actually pull off his trial. Not only had he done the impossible, he had also brought more than enough priceless jewels and gold to go around. Slowly, their amused thoughts of the newcomer changed to pride, and even, a little respect.


	21. Chapter 21

Reaver patted his new cutlass proudly. It had been two months since he had joined the Bloodstone Underworld, and the young man had enjoyed every moment of it. The drinking, the fighting, and the wild young harlots. Since he had been living in Bowerstone, certain laws had prevented him from hiring a prostitute, and Reaver found the act of paying a woman in order to take full advantage of her, positively delightful. Once the gold left his hands, the young man could do whatever he wanted with his newly acquired hire, and she had to obey him. There were certain, unorthodox fetishes he had read about and always wanted to try. They were considered foul and taboo by most members of society, and not even the young girls of Bowerstone would allow Reaver to partake in them. But with hired hands, this was no longer an issue. Most of these filthy rituals ended out not pleasing him enough to bear repetition however. But curiosity had been fulfilled, and that was what mattered to Reaver: Being able to do anything he wanted in his never ending life. On this particular night, the members of the Underworld were having a party. Their leader Verion was sitting with Reaver and a few other thugs having drinks.

"Oi, Verion! Why exactly are we celebrating anyway?" Asked the man on Reaver's left, a short and heavy man named Crogg.

"Captain Skull is coming back from his pillage on Samarkand." Verion replied. Reaver's interest was piqued.

"Captain Skull? Isn't he the Pirate King?"

"Yes. Rumor has it that he might even come to this very party." The man on Reaver's right piped up.

"Really? Why would you say that Sully?" Verion asked, finishing his brew.

"Because, we're making pirate history here tonight. You know old man Barnabus?"

"Yeah? What of the old coot?"

"He invented this new type of firearm. Claims that it's even more powerful than a cutlass and a bluderbuss combined." Sully continued. Reaver looked at his friend, who had on occasion been slightly more.

"What kind of weapon could be stronger than two?"

"I dunno, but he only made six of em, whatever they are. He said that they were prizes for the contest tonight."

"Contest? I don't recall allowing any contests at this party." Verion barked.

"Relax Verion, it's not anything formal, just a bit of target practice. Surely even you couldn't say no." Verion stroked his newly grown beard.

"I'm still the boss Sully. I make the rules here."

"Come on Verion. You must want one of those new weapons for yourself, I know that I do." Reaver added. Verion reclined back in his seat.

"Well, I suppose just one round would be alright. I've been trying to be less serious anyway..."

"About time Verion! We're pirates after all, not bloody nobles." Crogg laughed. Verion finished his drink and patted Reaver on the back.

"But if anyone here is going to win one of those things, its you boy." Reaver looked up at his boss. Verion was smiling proudly at him. "You've got the eyes of a hawk, and the reflexes of a cat. I'm proud to have you in my gang." Verion's words were deep. Since he had joined the Underworld, the young man had become almost a surrogate son to the leader, in place of the youth whom he had lost years ago. Out of all the men in the gang, Verion and Reaver had the most in common, yet they were never to know it. They both knew what it meant to lose everything, and to change.

"I already figured that out. But here's to the rest of you!" Reaver raised his glass of ale to his three companions, who eagerly followed suit.

"So when does this little competition start anyway?" Crogg asked Sully. The black-haired ruffian shrugged.

"As soon as Barnabus gets here I reckon. I can't wait to see those beauties, I wonder what they'll look like?"

"Who knows? What does he call em'?"

"Dragonstomper .48's. Says he's been perfecting the design for over fifty years. It's gonna be his life's work." Reaver listened intently to the conversation between Sully and Crogg. _Life's work eh? I wonder what you're life's work will look like? _It was a question that filled the young man with endless possibilities.

As the night waned on, the members of the Bloodstone Underworld grew from slightly inebriated, to wild and uncontrollable. Verion would have had his work cut out for him, had he not been intoxicated himself. About the only member who had yet to succumb to the effects of the strong ale, was Reaver. The young man had been very careful not to overdo it that night. He was eager to win one of the mysterious weapons that he had been hearing about all evening, and nothing was going to stop him. The cocky youngster already felt confident in his abilities, especially around the other members of the Underworld. They were nothing more to him than mindless brutes, who relied more on their cutlasses and cleavers, and weren't very skilled with either. Sully was still sitting beside him, although Crogg and Verion had vanished somewhere off into the ruckus. From behind him, Reaver heard a soft and breathy voice croon to him.

"Enjoying the festivities hon?" The young thug's green eyes glimmered as he looked up at the raven-haired beauty.

"Sheila dear. How are you? It's been quite a while since I saw you." He charmed, his wicked grin never leaving her large, supple breasts. Sheila sat down atop his awaiting lap. Her own green eyes begged for him as she spoke.

"You'll be seeing me tonight. I came all the way down to the Underworld just to give you a freebie." Reaver chuckled greedily.

"My, my my! Well isn't that generous of you love! I've been looking forward to our usual routine." He nipped at the oversized ear ring playfully. Sheila shrieked giddily, and pushed him away.

"Oh Reaver! You're so naughty! I hope that you'll save some of that bite for the competition."

"Never you mind that dearie. As you can plainly see, the competition list is pretty slim this evening." He nodded in the direction of Crogg, who was wobbling from table to table, knocking glasses to the floor in the process. Sheila laughed at the brigand's antics, before looking her scoundrel in the eyes again.

"You know, if you win, I may give you an extra reward."

"Oh? And what might that be?" Reaver leaned in closer to his quarry, inhaling her strong perfume in the process.

"You'll just have to wait and see." Sheila winked. Again, the young man nipped at her playfully. From across the room, a weathered and raspy voice rang through the hollow dwelling.

"Oi! Quiet you lot! Barnabus has arrived, an' he's brought them weapons you lot have been carryin' on over all week!" Verion roared. Although he was indeed drunk, the leader's authority still coated his every word. Slowly, the members of the gang ceased their celebrations, and turned to face him. Reaver pushed Sheila from his lap and stood, eager to chance his eyes upon the prize which would soon be his. Verion swayed to the side, allowing a short and stocky old man entry to the warehouse. Reaver walked closer to get a better look at the newcomer. He was quite possibly the ugliest man who the young rogue had ever seen. He was hunchbacked, with a large bulbous nose, and only one eye, the other was covered over with a tattered leather patch. Scraps of greasy silver hair clung to his scarred and blemished head, and his yellowed teeth protruded past his thick purple lips. In his leathery hands, he was clutching tightly to a heavy-looking wooden box. The elder gave each of the pirates crowding around him a harsh glare, before speaking in a deep voice which ended on a wheeze.

"If any of ye try ta touch what lies within this box without winnin' the contest, It'll be the last thing ye ever do." He grumbled. With that, he slammed the box down upon the table. Reaver inched closer, as did several of the other gang members. Again, the elder gave the curious men a deadly glare, before reluctantly unlocking the box. As he lifted the lid, a glint of red caught Reaver's eye. When the box had been opened, the others also gawked in awe at what lay within. Six golden objects, decorated with mahogany handles lined the inside. On each, a serpentine golden dragon was wrapped around the sides, its tail ending at the base. It's ruby encrusted eyes leered wickedly, as if ready to devour its prey. Whatever these items were, they were incredible. The young man had never seen anything like them. No one in the Underworld had. For within the confines of this box, lay the very first pistols Albion had ever seen.

"What are they?" Verion finally piped up.

"Their pistols. The kingdom of Vexshire has been makin' em for years now. I spent several decades over thar, as ye well know Verion. That's how I got the idea, ta make my own." The old man held up one of the new weapons. He traced the golden dragon on the side as gingerly as a baby's cheek. "Behold. The Dragonstomper .48. The most powerful weapon in the world." Reaver's eyes danced like flames as he beheld the glorious creation. He had guessed that the contest prize would be good, the men had been gossiping about it like school girls all week. But this, this was truly epic. The first pistols that Albion had ever seen, and one of these marvels would certainly become his.

"Alright then boys. Take your places for the competition!" Verion hollered, his voice still slurred slightly. Reaver nodded as he and the other twelve participants walked towards the end of the large warehouse. Verion had taken the liberty of setting up six large targets along the back wall. Reaver reached for his dagger, and awaited the start of the competition. Again, the old man's voice barked.

"Alright lads. Rules are simple enough, even for ye lot. Each of ye will take turns tryin' ta hit those targets. Once one of ye gets a bull's eye, ye will have won. Ye shall take yer Dragonstomper .48, and get out of me sight. The contest is over as soon as all six targets have been hit, dead center. Ready? Go!" The first of the twelve took aim and fired their muskets. Only Shawn, a veteran member, hit the center of the target.

"Alright Shawn! Come on and get your prize!" Verion cheered. A few of the participants muttered and cursed as Shawn picked up the first of the six coveted prizes. Reaver and the next five entries stepped forward next. The young man toyed with his dagger, flipping it between the hilt and tip, until Verion gave the signal to begin. Quick as lightning, the rogue flung his blade and smirked as it sank deep into the red bull's-eye of the wooden target.

"This time, it's Reaver! Alright boy, come on!" Verion ordered, his eyes gushing with pride. Crogg leered jealously at his friend as the young man approached the table to retrieve his prize.

"Hey!" He yelled out, startling Reaver.

"Yes Crogg?"

"How did ye win so easily? How do you _always _hit your mark so easily?" Crogg demanded, obviously still very drunk.

"I practice all of the time."

"Cut the crap Reaver! You spend all of your time bedding sluts and looting ships. When do you even have time to practice?!" Crogg pressed him. Reaver stared at him.

"What are you saying?" Crogg turned his riffle away from the target and instead pointed it at Reaver.

"I'm saying, that you're cheating. You've been cheating at everything since you joined up." The other competitors gasped, and began to murmur amongst themselves. Slowly, each of them aimed their weapons at the young man. Reaver backed away from the mob, grabbing his fairly won pistol in the process.

"Oi! It's true! No one never misses a single bloody shot!" Shouted one of the entries.

"Hey, lay off! The boy didn't do anything wrong!" Verion stepped in to defend his surrogate son. "He's just-" Before he could finish his sentence, a bullet from Crogg's riffle found his throat. Reaver watched in horror as the leader fell to his knees, gasping for air as thick bubbles of blood foamed from his mouth. The young man had always secretly admired Verion. He had been a just and powerful leader, and it was apparent that he had taken a shining to Reaver from the very start. Verion had been the first human being to genuinely care for the young man since Reaver had lost his family back in Oakvale. And now he was dead. As the grey beacons of Verion's eyes faded away, the green embers of the young scoundrel flared. Crogg laughed as he and the rest of the contest entries advanced on Reaver.

"Heh, good riddance. Verion was getting to be a bother anyway. You're next _boy_." The brigand mocked, as he once again took aim at the young man. Without thinking, and powered by sheer rage and madness, Reaver pulled the trigger of the pistol. He had never used a firearm before, let alone one like this. But his older brother, Henry, had shown him his riffle once, ordering Reaver to clean it for him. It was through his constant upkeep on his obnoxious brother's weapon, that the young man had figured out how to use one. Crogg fell forward, clenching his chest tightly. The other men instantly lunged at their new adversary.

"Kill him!" Cried one. Reaver looked at the men, each armed with their own set of weapons. It was going to be impossible for one man to win this battle. Taking one last look at Verion's lifeless body, the rogue fled the warehouse to find Sheila waiting for him outside.

"Darling? What's the matter?" She asked, noticing the concern within his eyes.

"Sheila, get out of my way!" He roared. Before she could respond, the rest of the competitors emerged.

"Arrr, tryin' ta run eh?" Jeered one. Reaver watched as the pirates slit Sheila's throat. _If you run away, where would you go? Besides, are you going to allow these pathetic worms to intimidate you? Are you still that coward, Victor?_ Reaver shook his head. _No, I am Reaver!_ Pulling free his cutlass, the young scoundrel charged into the angry mass of thugs.


	22. Chapter 22

Blinded by anger and blood, Reaver hacked his way through each of the pirates. Crogg was the first to fall, but as the young man withdrew his blade, a sharp pain ignited in his left shoulder. Reaver involuntarily grabbed his throbbing wound, and warm blood decorated his palm. Leering over his shoulder, he saw that one of the pirates had driven a cleaver into his shoulder.

"Heh, yer about ta pay for cheatin' me out of me gold in that poker game boy." The offending brigand proclaimed.

"I wouldn't count on it." The young man snarled, thrusting the hilt of his cutlass into his attackers stomach, and the pirate wretched and toppled over. Reaver continued his primal battle, until exhausted and wounded, he stood victorious. The young man cleaned his cutlass and turned to leave the warehouse. This was the end of his short career in the Bloodstone Underworld. Verion was dead, as were all of his treacherous cronies. It seemed that it was time once more for the immortal man to seek new ventures. As Reaver trodded down the docks towards the center of town, a sudden grunt caught his attention. Withdrawing his new pistol, Reaver looked around for the source of the sound.

"Who's there?" He demanded.

"Are you the one who killed Verion and his men?" The mysterious voice asked.

"I killed the men, but not their leader."

"Hmmm...I see." His green eyes narrowed as Reaver noticed a glint of silver twinkle from behind another warehouse. He readied his weapon as the speaker appeared; a tall, well muscled man in his late thirties. His blonde hair tapered down his back in matted braids, each tied at the end with a large crimson bead. An equally matted beard and moustache clung to his tanned face. He stepped towards the young man whom he had been adressing, his blue eyes pale and intense. "Captain Skull, would like to see you in his mansion."

"And why is that?"

"I have no idea, I'm just a humble messenger of the king."

"Who are you?"

"I'm one of the king's viking warriors, and the last of my clans bloodline. Name's Horden by the way."

"Reaver." The young man replaced his pistol.

"Listen kid. I don't know what you've heard of Captain Skull, but he's not looking for trouble with ya, I can tell you that. He wants to offer you a job is all."

"A job? Why on earth would he do that?" Despite his words, Reaver was not too surprised. The illustrious pirate king had no doubt heard of his astonishing abilities by now.

"I don't know, you'll have to ask him when we get there."

The Bloodstone Mansion was even bigger that Reaver had imagined. The three-story marvel was made of fine wood, and gold-plated windows. A large stone fountain sat in the front yard, surrounded by a lush garden. Horden led Reaver up the marble steps and into the grand living room.

"Wait here." He ordered, leaving Reaver alone to take in the huge room. The carpets were a dark black, and silver statues and obsidian tables lined the room. The stairway which led upstairs was lined with a silver railing, which slowly disappeared into the malevolent darkness above. The black and silver gave the mansion an odious and intimidating quality, and coupled with the dim lighting, it caused the young man to shudder. _What an awful sense of decoration! Where's the warm hues and cheery colors? _Within moments, Horden re-appeared in the living room.

"Sorry for the wait. Captain Skull will see you now. He's in his trophy room.

"His trophy room?"

"Yes. His majesty delights on bringing back rare specimens from his many travels abroad." The tall warrior explained.

"I see."

"Follow me." Reaver nodded as Horden led him through the large oak door straight ahead. The room was well-lit, due to the raging fireplace in the center. Reaver gawked around at the various heads mounted around the room. Some were easy to identify, creatures which he had been killing for years, balverines, hobbes and even a few bears. But there were other trophies that caused the young man to pale in wonder. Glorious beasts of pure white with a single luminous horn, fearsome fanged great cats, and reptilian creatures with murderous eyes. Where did such beasts exist? Certainly not in Albion. The young man was truly awestruck. He had always thirsted for knowledge of all kinds, and such animals raised many new questions for him. Where had the pirate king gone to secure these trophies? What other lands were out there, besides his native Albion? _There must be an entire world out there, untapped and unexplored by most. Who knows what great wonders this world still keeps hidden? _

"Enjoying my collection?" A low and gravely voice beckoned, tearing Reaver's fascinated eyes from the trophies. A large black armchair was facing the fireplace, and from the proximity of the voice, the young man guessed that the speaker was within its confines.

"Yes, yes I am." A figure stood from the chair, and turned around. He was seven feet tall, and was covered in ugly scars. A scraggly patch decorated his left eye, and Reaver could see the long red gash it concealed, the top and bottom halfs revealed.

"Reaver I presume?"

"Correct."

"I'm Captain Skull. Please, take a seat and have a drink with me." Skull smiled a disgusting grin, and Reaver knew instantly that it was not an invitation: It was a threat. Reluctantly, the young man took his seat and watched as the pirate king did the same.

"Maria! Fetch me and the lad some wine!" A curvaceous young brunette entered the room, armed with a silver tray topped with a bottle and two goblets.

"Here you go majesty." She smiled, pouring some of the blood-red liquid into the goblets. She handed the first to Captain Skull and the second to Reaver. Reaver took the wine, his eyes trailing Maria's inviting silhouette as she exited. Skull took a long drink before slamming his glass down upon the obsidian end table. The glass shattered upon impact, grabbing Reaver's attention.

"So, you killed my gang leader eh?"

"No, just his gang. Verion was felled by one of his own."

"Regardless of who did him in, Verion is dead." Skull declared, "I'll be needing a new leader for the Bloodstone Underworld."

"I see." Reaver replied, keenly interested.

"I take it that Hordon told you about my job proposal?"

"He said that I should ask you about that." The young man sipped his wine. Skull growled.

"Leave it to a viking to complicate matters...Anyway, I've heard good thing from Verion regarding your abilities and disposition. You're tenacious, you're skilled, and you don't take dirt from anyone. That's exactly the type of man I've been looking for. Reaver, I want you to be my new gang leader."

"Sounds good to me." The young man fought to hide his excitement.

"Good. I'm glad that you see it my way. Since you finished off ol' Verion's crew so mercilessly, I suppose that now would be a good time to recruit more members, that should be your first priority."

"I'll see to it right away Captain."

TEN YEARS LATER:

The Bloodstone Underworld had never been more powerful. Reaver's constant attention to the group and its members had caused Bloodstone to become rich with success and treasure. Beautiful women began to flock to the seaside town, eager to get their share of the spoils, and the rich pirate king who had secured them. But while Captain Skull was the pirate king, it was the Underworld leader, Reaver, who had led the countless pillaging and shanghaied the many ships sailing too close to Bloodstone's port, and the young man was far from satisfied. As he sat in his chair, sipping strong ale and feeling the warm hands of his lovely concubine, Reaver pondered his plight. Captain Skull was taking everything from him, seventy percent of all the stolen goods, and full credit for the raids. _That overfed captain sits in his mansion day and night while I do all the work! _

"Reaver honey? Are you alright? You look a little flushed." The harlot at his feet asked.

"Yes yes, I'm fine! Now get out!" He roared, causing the young girl to flee.

"Now, what to do about old Skull?" Reaver took another drink from his glass. As he thought, a dark grin crept across his pale lips. An idea began to take form, and it was an idea that would make his name known, whilst securing revenge on Captain Skull. Justice for all of the credit that he had taken for the constant rare gems and vast amounts of gold that the town was now filled with. Reaver had heard that the title of pirate king was highly sought after among pirates, thugs and the like. It was easy enough to obtain: One only needed to murder the last pirate king in order to secure his crown. But there was a problem. Captain Skull surrounded himself with barbaric and powerful viking warriors, such as Hordon. While the captain himself was weak and cowardly, getting to him was going to be another matter entirely. Many had tried their hand at murdering Skull, only to end up dead themselves. And even in the event that Reaver did assassinate him, how long would his own life be safe? His grin widened as he began to grasp just how easy the task would be for him. He could not die, nor be killed. It would be an easy victory, and one Reaver would not soon forget. The decision was quickly reached, to kill the pirate king.

The rain slammed down hard and unforgiving against the sixth warehouse. Reaver finished loading his Dragonstomper.48, and packing the last of his belongings. It was time. The young man crept across the wooden floorboards of the warehouse, boots in tow, trying not to awaken the other members of the Bloodstone Underworld. Once outside, he shut the door and ascended up the stone steps to Bloodstone. The Bloodstone mansion was quiet, save for the muffled conversation between two burly viking guards of the Skull's. Reaver's green eyes narrowed as he watched them pace the front door of the gigantic house. This is it. From behind the foliage of the lush garden, he sprang into view. The guards hollered at him as he came closer, never slowing down. The two men raised their axes, ready to chop the new threat in half. Two hollow shots rang out as lightning lit up the darkened sky above. As the two giants fell lifeless to his feet, Reaver aimed and fired another shot, and the door to the mansion fell forward. The young man darted inside. Seven more viking adversaries were startled as more bullets flew through the air.

"Oi! Intruder! Protect the Pirate King at all costs!" One familiar voice rang from the hallway. It was Hordon. Reaver kept himself focused on his own job. He had to assassinate Captain Skull. Being the Pirate King's lackey was a title that the rogue had long outgrown. Horden turned the corner, and came face-to-face with Reaver. The viking snarled at the sight of the young man whom he had met a decade ago. Horden had aged badly, his blonde hair now grey, and liver spots covered most of his forehead.

"Traitor! His majesty gives you such a sought-after title and you try to kill him?! You'll die for this!" The thug proclaimed. Reaver smirked, and remained perfectly still. As Horden's axe found its mark, the black swirls of energy engulfed Reaver, and pressed the viking's blade away, sinking it into its bearers chest. Horden's eyes flashed in terror as his blood splattered the walls. With his dying breath, he stared at the rogue in disbelief. A clap of thunder and white lightning highlighted the disturbing smile on Reaver's lips.

"You see Horden, I cannot be killed. You're king's reign is now over." Horden's eyes rolled back in his head as the young man started up the stairs.

Captain Skull was asleep in his bed, two beautiful women on either side of his huge body. Reaver cocked the hammer of his pistol in place, and took aim. Just as he was about to shoot, the captain jolted up in his bed. The two young things stirred.

"My king? What is-" The first started, before catching sight of the unknown stranger in the red and gold suit, holding a matching firearm. The other woman shrieked, and clutched the captain's arm tightly. Captain Skull pushed her off, leering at Reaver.

"Ursula, Penelope. Beat it!" He ordered. The two beauties gathered the bed sheets around their curvaceous bodies and fled the bedchambers. Reaver never let his eyes leave Slash, even as one of the women temporarily lost her covers. The Pirate King grinned at him.

"From the day I met you I knew that you would betray me."

"Then why did you hire me in the first place Skull?" The captain shrugged.

"I thought that it was just my nervous demeanor. You did, after all look very innocent and harmless. When Horden first told me that you had killed all of Verion's gang, I was very amused."

"Well, my dear captain, looks can be very deceiving." As Captain Skull's face paled, Reaver's thin finger pulled the trigger. Looking over the remains of the Pirate King, Reaver holstered his weapon. _I told you I would make a name for myself Henery. You're runt brother is now a king, and you're dead._ His smile melted and the young man closed his eyes. _Long dead..._A single tear escaped as thunder shook the vicinity of his new home.

Reaver rose his glass of wine to the black-haired beauty sitting beside him.

"Darling Ursuala, how do you like being the maiden of a Pirate King?" Ursuala blushed, taking a sip of her own.

"Not bad, you certainly know how to charm me." The rogue leaned in to kiss her fair flesh, ending by licking away some of the sweet wine from her rosy lips.

"My dear girl, if there is indeed one thing that I know how to do, it is charm."

"Oh Reaver! But wait, won't your mistress be upset if she finds out?" The pirate wrapped his arm around Ursuala's waist, and traced one of her large bosoms with the other. She gasped as his hot breath found her ear.

"You mean Penelope? Don't you worry about her. That ditzy yet lovely flower shall never know."

"If you're sure..." The dark beauty threw herself at the Pirate King, much to Reaver's delight. When the two had finished making love, Reaver stood and re-buttoned his suit. Ursuala looked up at him, confused.

"Darling, I hate to be rude, but you need to take your leave now. I have a very important meeting in twenty minutes and I do not wish to be late."

"Alright. Will I see you again?"

"Of course you will! Tatty-bye now!" Ursuala dressed and kissed the rogue's cheek before descending down the mahogany steps. The dark blacks and striking silvers still decorated the mansion, although Reaver planned on renovating the entire building in due time. He walked to the end table and poured himself another glass of his favorite red wine. He took a long sip, before sighing loudly. "Tramp."


	23. Chapter 23

_ Victor trudged through the chilling rain and sopping mud. He had no idea where he was, how far he had strayed from his village. The night around him coupled with the violent storm made visibility extremely poor. He stepped with great care to avoid tripping over the tree roots and boulders which he knew were plentiful in the woods around Oakvale. He held his hand against his brow, in a desperate attempt to blot out the blinding rain that was streaming down his sweltering face. At last, in the distance he could barely make out the dying flames of his village. Victor continued forward, nearly stumbling over a fallen log. At long last he could see the gates of Oakvale. But as the torches blazed, the unthinkably impossible became truly horrifying. The bounty hunter had been locked out of his hometown. Victor ran to the gate, his leather boots slipped on the drowned earth, causing him to fall headfirst against the barricade. Blood mixed with the rain and sweat on his desperate face as he barred his fist down, desperately banging upon the heavy gate. _

_"Farmer Ben! Henery, Xaiver, Cammilia! Someone open this damned gate!" He screamed. A wave of releif coursed through his veins as the muffled sound of laughter emitted from the other side. Victor gathered himself and yelled for help again. "Hey! Open the gate, I've been locked out!" The laughter continued, but the gate did not open. The young man stood silent, then banged upon the wood again. "This isn't a joke, let me in!" He demanded._

_"Why should I?" The laughing voice finally replied. _

_"I am Victor Ashfield, a fellow villager of Oakvale. I have been locked out during my usual hunting you would not leave your neighbor, nor your town's protector to the elements?" He reasoned. The voice was silent for a moment before it burst out laughing again._

_"Our town's protector? Do you still spout that title so shamelessly?"_

_"I don't understand. Why shouldn't I be proud of my sacrifices?"_

_"So you are proud of what you have done?" There was a dark questioning in the unseen ones words, and Victor still had no idea whom he was speaking to. The storm muffled most of the tone, and what little remained was monotone and genderless. It was like talking to a ghost, or even an animal which had become possessed with speech. It sounded like none of the villagers the young man knew._

_"Yes. I am. I have devoted my life to protecting this village. Now let me enter, I wish to see my wife and daughter!" He bellowed. The laughter subsided, and to Victor's glee, the large wooden gates slowly opened for him. As he entered through the gates, a flash of white light engulfed him, stinging his unsuspecting eyes. Victor winced, and squeezed his burning eyes tightly closed. When his green irises reopened, a cheerful smile graced his lips. He was laying under a weeping willow tree at the top of his favorite hill, the only one that overlooked the vast sea. Victor wasn't sure how he had gotten there, or what had become of the terrible storm, but one thing was obvious to him: Oakvale was so alive. Color and light danced across the surface of the vast meadow, and the soft breeze of the ocean carried with it an air of excitement. The scent of lavender and lily were filling his head with whimsy, while the sight of his daughter playing with her mother brought him joy. A soft wet nose nuzzled his trousers, as his loyal shepard rose to greet the day. Archer trodded over to his master, gingerly licking the small patch of chestnut hair upon his chin. The young man laughed, and wrapped his arms around the dogs thick neck. He opened his mouth, and something inaudible left his lips. The dog barked silently as the mother and child continued their game of tag. Victor propped himself into a sitting position, leaning against the bark of the willow for support. His smile lengthened as his daughter returned the gleeful expression, her glassy green eyes sparkling with delight as they surveyed the endless cerulean sea. As if the day had been waning on for hours, the last of the crimson sun was consumed and drowned within the turning of the tide. Victor held his breath in pure awe as the magnificent shades of pinks and vibrant golds lit up the western sky. He turned to face his family, and his wifes blonde hair bounced as she continued to twirl with their daughter, the child's silent laughter flooding the hills and valleys of the small farming community. _

_"Opal, sweetheart! Cammilia, my love! Come and watch the sunset with me." The proud father beckoned. The two stopped and stared at him, the innocent request he had made like acid scouring at their flesh. Their eyes grew limped, and pain flooded their once careless expressions. Victor stood, unsure what was causing his family such distress. "Cammila? What is it my darling?" The woman he loved began to tremble as he reached for her hand, and she pulled away abruptly from his warm touch. Through her peach colored lips, a small sound began to emerge. It started in a low, barely audible whisper, but soon Victor found himself holding his hands to his ears at the shrill shrieks that his Cammilia was emitting. _

_"Cammilia! Darling, what is happening to you?!" The frantic man begged, grabbing forcefully at her wrists. To his horror, Cammilia pulled back, forcing her concerned husband to his knees. She extended her left hand to his face, and gripped his cheeks tightly. Victor winced as sharp nails embedded into his flesh, her thumb going the deepest, barely missing his left eye. Victor struggled to pull his face free from the confines of the brutal embrace, and turned his head again to the setting sun. No adventure, nor dangerous quest could ever have hoped to prepare the young man for what he would see next. The once calm water was now riddled with corpses, its stale and stagnant surf careening toxic black water to the virgin shore, forever tainting Oakvale in poisonous death. Victor rose to his feet, the supernatural change of scenery making his head spin. _

_"What the hell is going on?!" He turned around and screamed. Cammilia and Opal were being consumed by a green flame. Their faces were strangely calm as the blaze ate away at their flesh. It was then that Victor realized: This wasn't his family; these were imposters. The hellish flames sizzled into the earth, and their true forms were revealed. A tall white figure, looming over the sulphur-choked hillside, accompanied by her miniscule imp-like daughter. A banshee queen, her empty face and pale flesh caused Victor to back away, placing his palm against the smooth bark of the willow tree. _

_"You did this to me..." The banshee spoke in a raspy and unforgiving voice._

_"You...You aren't my Cammilia..." Victor proclaimed bravely. The entity laughed cruelly, as her shadowy youth advanced._

_"Are you so sure?" She asked, reaching beneath the folds of her cloak. Victor gasped as she pulled free a small glimmering object, covered in dirt and patches of rust. Cammilia's locket._

_"No...you cannot be a banshee my love..." He touched his face, where the spirits claws had pierced his flesh. Victor brought his hand to his face at the texture of warm liquid. His blood was dark and thick. Tainted._

_"You made me this way. You sacrificed my soul, as well as that of our little girl, to the King of Shadows. He did with us...what he saw fit." Victor was now trembling uncontrollably by the horrid epiphany. His mistake had not only killed his family: It had also damned them. _

_"No Cammilia! You do not deserve this fate and neither does Opal. You are both innocents. Please listen to me, my darling! I can change your fates, I would give my very soul to set you both free!" He pleaded, hot tears streaming down his face, their salt stinging his injuries. The banshee laughed._

_"Foolish hero. My King already owns your soul, and the moment that you dishonor his pact he shall take what is rightfully his. Know this, Victor Ashfield; the fate that awaits you shall make your unholy crimes pale in comparison. You shall suffer like no mortal has ever suffered before...or shall ever suffer again." The young man's eyes narrowed. _

_"What makes you think that I haven't already?!" He glared at the entity, his voice bellowing above the thunder and clashing waves._

Reaver shot up in his bed, sweat dripping from his frantic face. His companion had not been awakened, thankfully.

"Ah, Andrew. You've always been such a heavy sleeper." He murmured aloud. He traced his cheeks, feeling to make sure that the banshee had not left a mark beyond the one that now stained his subconscious. But to his horror, one small indent did remain. Reaver sprung from his bed and rushed to his mirror. There was a tiny, round scar now donning his left cheek, just below his eye. _How is this possible? _He asked, tracing the contours of his perfect face. The fact that a blemish was now upon his glorious profile did not bother him as much as he had thought that it would. Reaver was more concerned about how a nightmare could brand him with a mark at all. _Well, it does suit you I suppose..._He sighed, turning his attention back towards the bed. It was late, and the newly crowned Pirate King was still exhausted following last nights affair with his newest servant. Reaver had never fancied men in the past, at least not that he had been aware of. Back in Oakvale he had only ever gawked at Cammilia, how he had been consumed with that girl! But if being immortal had indeed taught him anything, it was that being open to new opportunities and experiences could bring often positive and downright pleasureful results. Such was his excuse when he had seduced the thin and polite young man who lay before him now. Andrew was from a middle class family, out in Witchwood. And while he was indeed a sweet and giving individual, he had a terrible habit of telling fibs. He was quite skilled at it, so good in fact that he had earned the nickname, Andrew the Liar, around Bloodstone. It was his manipulative streak that had first piqued Reaver's interest. The Pirate King was always interested in those who could offer him something, or those who were good at their professions, and usually both. Andrew had the makings of a great conman, a conman that could make the Pirate King very rich indeed, and Reaver was determined to seal the deal with a little, incentive. As he lay down and closed his eyes, the smell of smoke burned its way into his nostrils. At first, Reaver was confused. He hadn't made a fire in his bedchambers that eve, and all of his chefs had been sent home. It took a moment for him to register that his mansion was indeed on fire. Quickly, Reaver stood from his bed, threw on his clothes, and fled the room. He hadn't bothered to wake Andrew, his own life was on the line at the moment. _There shall be other conmans to be met in this vast world of ours. It's his fault for being such heavy sleeper after all. _He snorted, fleeing down the steps to the second floor of his new mansion. Reaver stopped short, the blaze had already consumed the first floor, trapping him within his home.

"At least, that's what the pyro responsible probably thinks..." He grumbled, pulling free his Dragonstomper .48. He took aim and fired at the chandelier hanging in the center of the living room. The massive crystal structure creaked and leaned towards him as the bullet pierced its silver chain. Reaver seized the opportunity, grabbing hold of the rotating pendulum. He swung past the blazing room below, feeling the heat as he did so. He brought out his pistol again and shot the large central window in the living room. Shards of glass shattered into the sea of flames as Reaver swung through, releasing his grasp on the chandelier. The pirate flew through the air, curling his knees around his head as he hit the ground. The lush garden cushioned his fall, resulting in only minor scrapes from the thorny roses within. Reaver dusted himself off, and stumbled from the garden. He looked up and watched as his mansion burned. From around the bend, a tall blonde beauty caught the corner of his eye.

"Penelope? What are you doing here love?" He asked, although the rage in her green eyes explained everything. She stormed up to the pirate.

"Bastard! You've been seeing Ursula behind my back!" She reached out to slap him, but Reaver grabbed her wrist. His own green beacons narrowed harshly, and he began to squeeze. Penelope shrieked, and tried to pull herself away. But Reaver only squeezed harder, as his lips curved into a deadly snarl.

"What I do in the privacy of my own home is none of your concern. You would be wise to remember that." Penelope opened her eyes, and spat in his face.

"You were supposed to burn you filthy beast!" Reaver's eyes flew open. _So she was the one who started the fire! _He pulled her forward, and with his free hand he slapped her as hard as he could. Penelope fell to his feet.

"You dare to illustrate revenge my dear? Were you aware of the consequences that such actions will undoubtably provoke?" He wiped the saliva from his cheek and drew his pistol.

"Do your worst, I'm not afraid of you Reaver."

"Is that so?" He cocked the hammer into place. "Then you won't mind being shot by me." Just as he was about to fire, a burly man came running through the front gate.

"Your majesty...oh, am I interrupting something?" The thug asked, spying Penelope and Reaver's aimed weapon. Reaver looked at the new arrival, and grinned.

"Forge. I require your opinion on this delicate little matter. This girl...she is my lover, and yet she has just tried to kill me. Now, I know that I haven't been, shall we say, fateful to her...but do I really deserve to die for the shameless act of love?"

"Why no your majesty. She should be taught a lesson in respect."

"Precisely. I was going to shoot her, but you have given me a rather delicious idea. After all, this poor young thing obviously seeks love and attention, and perhaps we should give it to her Forge."

"What are you suggesting Reaver?" Forge asked, looking at Penelope. Reaver chuckled, and fired his pistol. Penelope screamed, petrified as the bullet tore through the sleeve of her dress, burning her flesh. Reaver blew away the remaining smoke and smirked as he holstered his weapon.

"I will need to go on holiday whilst Miss Penelope's act of vengeance is cleaned up. I was going to have the entire building renovated anyway, so I suppose I should thank the dear girl for pushing the project along for me." He smiled wickedly at Penelope. "Thank you, my darling. I shall have such a lovely manor house upon my return to Albion, and I promise that you shall be the first to set foot within."

"Drop dead." She hissed, rubbing her arm.

"Forge, will you take care of her? Teach her a little 'respect' while I'm away, would you? Who knows? When this little incident has blown over, I may just want to start seeing her again." Forge stared at Penelope, giving her a dirty smile.

"With pleasure, your majesty." The brigand pried her from the dirt, preventing her escape.

"Now be good and learn your lesson, my little pet. Mr. Forge is quite the gentleman, or so I've heard." Reaver chuckled, patting Penelope on the head as if she were a small child. "Consider your fun with her as a reward for your loyal service Forge." The pirate winked at the giant.

"Take your time Reaver, I'll teach her plenty of manners while your gone." Forge pulled Penelope closer, causing her to struggle.

"Let me go you brute!" She protested. "Reaver, you bastard! I'll never forgive you for this!"

"We shall see about that my dear. Tatty-bye!" Reaver threw his cape across his shoulders and exited the front yard. As the flames licked ever higher, a man's high-pitched screams could be heard within.


End file.
